I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
by Mistress V
Summary: Kirk, Spock and Chapel embark on an undercover mission with Starfleet agent Commander Gary Mitchell. Their assignment:to solve a puzzling mystery before it threatens the Federation, and to find Christine Chapel's missing fiancee. Rated T. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_~For those who know my other fandom works, you also know my love of intrigue, espionage and adventure. The action picks up right where "Hard Knocks" ends and will continue on through various twists, turns and romps. Some serious topics will be touched on, but only in passing. Rated T to be safe._

_Background Notes: Even though Gaila, the Orion cadet, figures (ha!) in the new film, we still know very little about the Orion people or even their planet, just that they come from the Orion constellation. So...I improvised._

_For the purposes of this story and in THIS universe, I give the name Orion Prime to the main planet in the system (and presume it is like Rigel, with many habitable planets). The Orion Confederacy (a loose government representing all worlds there) has begun the formal process of application to the United Federation of Planets, but that takes time. In the meantime, not all the inhabitants are pleased with this decision. The nefarious Orion Syndicate, and the legendary slave women we've seen in other Trek series, still are a part of the culture (though the government is working to eradicate that. Good luck!). And since Orion is not yet a full member of the UFP, I also presume the cadets (there have been others) that attended Starfleet were recommended by the appropriate command level Starfleet officer to take the entrance exam and thus gained entrance, the same as what transpired with Nog (a Ferengi) and Captain Benjamin Sisko in DS9._

_The title comes from both a book and a song; I use the song's premise for the story. My favorite version is the original, sung by Lynne Anderson._

Legal stuff: Copyright Mistress V 2009. Paramount owns everything Trek except for my imagination, which I put to good use every time I write. Although I only borrow their concepts and don't make anything off my work except satisfaction :-) And what's mine is mine.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 1/? (ATOS-T)  
by Mistress V

Christine stared back at Gary Mitchell, not certain she'd heard correctly.

"Risa?" she finally repeated, from a throat that felt like it was full of razor blades.

"Intelligence puts him there---for the past few years, if it's the same person. But let's get your input," he continued. "Computer?"

"What's up, babycakes?"

The machine's overly friendly response drew a wince from Kirk and a small 'hrrmph' from Spock, but the new second officer took it with aplomb.

"Display image Rick Kirby."

"At your service, doll!"

A picture filled the viewscreen. Of a suntanned, middle-aged man in a beachfront bar. His hair was long and he sported equally long sideburns. Tinted sunglasses hid his eyes. He was savoring a fine cigar and was in the company of two stunning women, one Andorian and one that appeared to be...Vulcan? Both were dressed and coiffed extremely fashionably. Dazzling, expensive jewelry dripped from all the right places.

This prospect elicited a strangled "Fascinating? " from Spock, though he looked puzzled.

"Meet Rick Kirby," Mitchell began. "Debonair man about Risa, arrived there approximately 4.5 years ago. He and his business associate recently opened a casino club that's proving to be quite popular, both for its good odds as well as its lovely staff."

"That can't be Roger," Christine interrupted adamantly. "He disapproved of any kind of gambling and never smoked in his life. And Risa was on his no-flyover zone. I can't tell you how many times he bemoaned how tacky it was. I couldn't get him even to consider it for our wedding. He chose Pacifica."

"Computer, display image Dr. Roger Korby," Mitchell now directed.

"Sure thing, sweetie."

A formal portrait of the esteemed scientist joined its companion onscreen. He looked quite academic, almost stoic. The smile he was giving seemed even a trifle forced.

"Overlay images and do facial structure comparison."

The computer did as it was told and after a few moments, offered its analysis.

"98% match on bone and skull structure. There's been obvious plastic surgery done to augment the nose, and there is evidence of a facelift and hair transplant. But it's the same guy. Pending DNA match to be absolutely certain, snookums."

"We've GOT to get that darn thing defragged," Kirk muttered. "I can't take much more of this."

Spock glanced over at the nurse. She was gripping the edges of the table, her knuckles devoid of color. Her face sported a similar pallor, but her expression was emotionless.

"Lieutenant? Are you quite all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Can we get on with this, please?" The woman grabbed a nearby pitcher, poured herself a glass of water and gulped it down. "What does this---person have to do with Roger?"

Mitchell addressed the table in a serious tone. "What goes on in this room must stay here. It's confidential information, on a need to know basis only and for now, you three are the only ones that need to know on this ship. Let's say the ramifications could stretch as far as the safety of the Federation. For now, do I have your word as officers that you will discuss this with no one other than ourselves and only as needed?"

The group nodded, though Christine's assent was just the barest of jerks.

"This Kirby arrived, as I said, about 4.5 years ago. He was in the company of this man, Harcourt Fenton Mudd, who goes by the name Harvey, and another associate they call Rocco." Mitchell called up the images as he spoke further.

"Mudd's a soldier of fortune and a suspected smuggler in everything from illegal drugs to fake patents but for the past few years, he's been keeping his hands clean. We have no real idea about this Rocco character. I sure wouldn't want to run into him in a dark alley. He appears to be their go-to man, that's all we know for now.

"Mudd and Kirby worked their way around the Risan system, making contacts and learning about the resort. The whole time, they were engaged in legitimate import-export, usually of tourist-oriented commercial goods. Souvenirs, resort wear, that kind of thing. But they had other plans afoot. Eventually, they opened a casino-cum-nightclub, The Light Year, about nine months ago."

Photos of the establishment were now shown. It looked opulent, to say the least.

"But there's nothing unusual about that, Gary," Kirk said. "Heck, you and I talked about opening a bar somewhere, too. In our retirement."

Mitchell laughed at the memory, then became serious once more. "And there wasn't anything unusual to begin with. It was always filled with the beautiful people---and with equally beautiful woman. At first, they were all Risan. But in the past few months, they began bringing in other staff---squeezing the Risan workers out, you might say. Females from species living all over the quadrant started working as hostesses, croupiers, barmaids, you name it."

More pictures, depicting a bevy of interquadrant beauties.

"That is not necessarily unusual," Spock offered, his curiosity piqued by the appearance of the Vulcan woman once more. "Unethical, perhaps, but not unusual. Perhaps they were trying to appeal to a wide variety of patrons."

"That's initially what the authorities thought. Then the laid-off staff complained about favoritism. So an informal investigation was launched and funnily enough, there were no records of these guest workers anywhere in the system. The Risans run a pretty tight ship, you know, despite the general openness there. Nothing illegal is allowed."

A pair of knockout Orion women now showed up onscreen. Both sported dark tresses and the scanty costume of the legendary slave girls known throughout the quadrant---one legend the Confederacy government was trying to stamp out.

Kirk let out an appreciative whistle. "Man alive," he said.

"These two started working about a week ago. And there starts the real mystery. Not only are they not registered as guest workers, they're not registered to anyone."

"What do you mean, registered?" Christine asked, struck by the sensual energy of the pair---who flanked the mysterious Kirby in the shot.

"We'll be getting briefed in more detail later, but for now I can say that even though the Orions are trying to play by the regs, slave girls do exist and they are 99% owned by the syndicate. There's a sophisticated way of tracking them. And these two have no record of having been bought, sold, lent, leased, set free or stolen. It's like they just appeared from nowhere. Which led the Risan government to conclude the only possible explanation," Mitchell finished, looking over at his friend.

"Not trafficking?" Kirk asked, knowing very well that might be the case.

"The politically correct term for slaving, I believe," Spock added.

Christine now gulped. She'd heard many stories of the females' almost animal-like pull over men. Her heart sank. This could not the Roger she knew.

"So where do we come in?" Spock continued. "And how?"

"The syndicate got wind of this about the same time we did. So they'll be sending out operatives to get back their perceived stolen property. They play quick and dirty. That group's been itching to get a foothold on Risa since it was terraformed, but the Risans have not yielded. This could be the excuse they need to start a fight and it could get ugly very fast. De-stabilize the Orion system, just in time for its formal application to the UFP." Mitchell shook his head. "Bad stuff."

"Not only that, I am sure the Risans do not wish any violence to occur on the planet, which hosts millions of visitors from across the quadrant each year," Spock observed.

"Yeah, they have a saying. We don't care who you are or what you do, but once you're here, you follow our rules," Kirk added. " A Klingon general can drink at the same bar as a fleet admiral, as long as it's on Risa, it's acceptable."

Mitchell now turned to Christine. "I need your help, Lieutenant Chapel," he said evenly. "Someone needs to get close to this man, find out if he is Korby and, more importantly, what the heck he's gotten into. You're the only one able to do that."

"I promise, if it turns out this isn't Korby, we'll head straight to Exo III and stay there until we know for certain what happened to him," Kirk told the nurse.

"It's Roger." Christine bowed her head for a second and took a deep breath. "That signet ring he's wearing?"

"Computer, enlarge image," Mitchell ordered.

They looked at a simple platinum piece engraved with the initial K.

"What about the ring?" Kirk prodded gently.

Christine now closed her eyes. "I gave it to him, just before he left for Exo III."

FIN of Chapter 1.

_Yes, I know it's HARRY Mudd in TOS, but it's AU and besides, I could not resist giving him the name of one of the prestigious Claremont Colleges (Harvey Mudd)._

_Don't worry, the computer gets fixed. Eventually ;-)_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers as in part 1.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 2/?  
by Mistress V

Kirk held up a bottle of Aldebaran whiskey. "Are you sure I can't interest you, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Not just yet, sir, but thanks," Christine replied. Then she turned to Mitchell. "Of course I'll help you, Commander. Whoever that person is, they're either Roger...or know what happened to him. He never took that ring off." At this, she glanced surreptitiously to the solitaire ring on her own left hand. "What do you need from me?"

"Good to have you on board, Miss Chapel. Seeing as we're going to be working together, we'd best dispense with the ranks for now unless other people need to hear that." He glanced down at the notes on his viewscreen. "In case you haven't figured me out by now, I'm not really a full time starship officer. I'm what you call an operative, for Starfleet Intelligence, and I've been many things in my day."

At this, Spock raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

"A spy," Christine corrected, but undisguised curiosity sparked in her eyes.

"Yeah, a real live Double O, if you want to get technical." Mitchell gave a rakish, Bond-like grin. "This op is a joint venture between my division and the Risan Security Services. We'll all be going to Risa, where we'll assume the identities necessary to gather our research. Two other operatives, ladies, I've worked with before, will be joining us there."

"If I may ask," Spock interrupted politely, "why I am included in this excursion?"

"Your government, what's left of it, is also interested in where that Vulcan looking female came from and if there are others like her there as well. I'm afraid your own special forces are rather thin on the ground so you've been seconded. They sent the necessary background and documents for your new persona, though." Mitchell pushed a small PADD across the table.

"Just a minute." Kirk was shaking his head now, agitation lacing his tone. "You say we're leaving for Risa? When? For how long? How can this ship be without a captain or its two ranking line officers? What would the crew think? Never mind them, what if an unfriendly force just happened on her while were off playing spy? "

"Relax, Jim." Mitchell poured another shot of whiskey for them both, then, noting Christine's nod, one for her as well.

"Reassure me, Gary," Kirk replied over his glass.

"It's all been thought out, we just needed the players in place. You've been complaining about that overly friendly computer of yours, right? That the Cygnet ladies enhanced?" He nodded at the console. "Computer?"

"Hiya, honey. What can I do for you tonight?"

Kirk made a strangling motion with his hands.

"Spock here says in order to get the circuit boards reprogrammed, it would take at least a week's layover at a starbase. Right, Spock?"

"At the minimum, yes, Mr. Mitchell."

"Starbase 11 is just a solar day away. We'll divert there for the needed repairs. While the ship's being worked on, our group heads off in the other direction. With any luck, we'll be back before anyone knows we're gone." Mitchell smiled. "Already planned."

"Not exactly. What about my crew?" Kirk obviously wasn't convinced.

"The starbase is planet side, but there's not much to do besides what its facilities offer. So this is going to be a...working layover. For everyone."

"The Captain---er- --the Captain's right, sir," Christine now interjected, obviously unsure what to call her superior for this extraordinary venture. "How can all three of us just disappear? Take me, sir, just me. You can tell everyone I'm homesick. or space sick. or something... "

"DOCTOR Chapel," Mitchell replied, using the woman's civilian professional designation, "you've been invited to a symposium on exoimmunology in the next system---at the biological institute there. You'll be discussing the research you've been working on. I *am* correct, Doctor? You've continued that on board, right?"

"Affirmative. " Christine felt her cheeks grow hot. How much did this man know? She was also aware of Spock's gaze shifting towards her.

"Spock, you're meeting with Vulcan representatives on colony and diplomatic business. Jim, you have bureaucratic affairs to handle. Fortunately, the base always has brass crawling all over the place and we made doubly sure to have more than the usual amount. Everyone else will be taking courses on the latest advancements, studying for the promotions exam, having physicals, whatever. Believe me, the whole crew will be so busy they won't have time to notice who's not there. Besides, Jim. How many underlings want to socialize with their superiors off duty?"

"I'll buy that for now," Kirk conceded. "And I'm sure you'll brief me in detail before we get to our destination. I presume Stone will be in temporary command. If I decide to go along on this wild goose chase, that is."

Spock raised an eyebrow again, as if making a connection between the old Terran idiom and its actual meaning. Before he could comment, Christine spoke.

"What about you, Mr. Mitchell?" she asked.

"It'll be Gary, so you'd better start getting used to calling me that. May I call you Christine?" Charm oozed out of Mitchell's pores now.

"Of course...Gary." The name was half-swallowed.

"Me, I'm just a temporary second officer. Maybe I'll be called away on some other personnel emergency. Maybe I'll come down with the flu. That remains to be seen."

"Will you re-join the ship once the mission concludes?" Spock queried.

"We'll see. I can't really speculate. For now, here are your new identities. Learn them." Mitchell distributed more PADDs. "Once we get to Risa and meet the others, we'll be pairing up as couples, though it's strictly for appearances. We can decide who's with who once we're settled. Oh, and Christine, start thinking of a name you'd like to go by. Can't have anything familiar about you. But don't worry, the ladies have plenty of experience in these matters. They'll help."

"Dismissed," Kirk said to the group. "But we'll meet tomorrow for a briefing. Gary will notify us." He turned to his friend as they made their way toward the exit. "A used flitter salesman? Come on, Gary. Why can't I be a geologist like you and Spock?"

"Because the only rocks you know are the ones in your head," came the reply as the doors closed.

Christine sat for a moment, reading the dossier before her but not really seeing the text. Her mind was a cyclone about to make landfall, with potentially lethal results. All kinds of emotions were swirling in there. Rage, betrayal, curiosity, fright, revenge. It was not going to be an easy task, but it had to be done, that she knew. For her own sake, if no one else's, though she also knew the stakes could be very high.

"Lieutenant Chapel?"

She started, having forgotten Spock was still in the briefing room as well. "Yes, sir?" she replied.

The Vulcan hesitated a microsecond. "Christine," he began, his tongue almost tripping over the syllables. "Would you mind terribly if, once we reached Risa, you and I were to be...paired up, as Mr. Mitchell suggested?"

"I don't have a problem, Mr. Spock. But why me? Why not wait until we get there and see if there's someone else you'd rather work with, that you're more comfortable with?"

The request surprised her. The first officer had always been the consummate professional during their contacts. Well, except when he'd been her patient, but that was excusable. A thought nagged at her, though. Although she largely kept herself to herself, on board it was common knowledge via the crew grapevine that he and Lt. Uhura were something of an item. Though lately of the on again/off again variety. She hoped word of the...professional coupling would not cause undue problems for the man---or herself.

"I have found in our dealings that you are a most comfortable person to work with. Vulcans as a rule do not take to relationships with those not known to them very easily. It is a cultural thing. So I find our matching logical, based on our on board familiarity with each other. Do you consent?"

"Yes, sir." Christine gave him a smile. "It'll be an honor working with you, sir. Er, Mr. Spock. Or is it just Spock?"

"When we are on assignment, Spock alone will suffice, though I will have another name to be known by." His eyebrow raised. "As shall you, I understand. And may I ask you one other thing, Miss-er---Christine ?"

"Sure."

"I am...unfamiliar with certain public aspects of human societal...idiosync rasies. Idioms, behavior, reaction. I would appreciate it if you might begrudge me this shortcoming should I err during our time together. Perhaps you could correct me as well should the need arise."

"Don't worry, Spock. I'll have your back."

"My back?" The Vulcan looked perplexed.

A sigh escaped Christine. Poor innocent, she thought. This is going to be interesting, to say the least. "Why not walk with me awhile towards my quarters and I'll try to explain?" she offered. "Unless you're...busy? " Now her own eyebrow arched playfully.

"I am not busy, no. That would be most acceptable...Christine. "

FIN of 2


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers as in part 1.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 3/?

by Mistress V

Christine's door chime rang. "Come in," she yelled, stuffing the last few items in her bag. Commander Mitchell, no, Gary, said to pack light, everything would be supplied.

The door opened and one of the bioresearch staff she'd become friendly with, Ensign Bridget O'Rourke, wandered in.

"You packed?" she asked.

"Just about." Christine snapped the fasteners closed.

"Poor you." The Irish woman sat down in a chair and picked up a toy stuffed amoeba, a humorous parting gift from Christine's Terran staff. "Having to spend your time off talking to all those boring old researchers."

"You're forgetting, unless I'm on duty in sickbay, I spend most of my free time talking to microbes," Christine laughed. "It's time for the conference attendees to climb out of their Petri dishes and socialize. But what about you? What's on your slate?"

Bridget frowned. "We have more things scheduled than I know what to do with. Hardly a minute of free time, plus we're billeted right here on the ship. What fun is that? I think by the end of our stay here, I'll be glad to get back into space. At least there's *some* intrigue there. But there's a lovely multi-use fitness track in the spacedock, runs its entire parameter. You can walk, run, skate, cycle, any of that. So I'll stay in shape."

"As if you need to worry." Christine took the plush toy back and hit her with it playfully. "You'll keep an eye on my experiments, won't you? And my terrarium?" She indicated the large plant-filled glass container that dominated the shelf below her window.

"I'll follow your instructions to the letter, ma'am." Bridget made shooing motions with her hands. "Come on, lass, get you out of here!" She paused a moment. "Now how could you be forgettin' something so precious to you?"

"What?" Christine turned around and saw the woman had picked up the small framed photo of her with Roger off the desk. "Thanks, hon," she said, taking the object and sliding it in her purse. "I'd forget my head sometimes, I swear."

But as she got into the lift, Christine wondered how much Roger still meant to her. Since the revelation that he might be living another life entirely---one without her---she'd been examining her heart so much it was a wonder it still functioned. Five years was a long time to be waiting, and the ensuing confusion over that time meant she really had no idea how she felt. One way or another, she needed to bring closure to that murkiness.

She came around the corner to the spacedock exit doors and almost bumped into Spock and Lt. Uhura, who were bidding each other a chaste farewell. It was hard to tell if they were on or off. Hopefully, her innocent stroll with the Vulcan last night hadn't upset the apple cart too much.

It was only from the briefing room to the turbolift but it seemed half the ship had passed by during that short distance. In the lift, they'd been joined by several other staff. Spock had seamlessly changed the subject to her current bioresearch and they exchanged a few professional sentences. But that, or even his perfunctory, "Good evening, Lieutenant," as she exited onto her floor probably would be a week's fodder for the gossip slugs. Why didn't they feast on Kirk's notorious flirtations, or even Mitchell's? Maybe that was too pedestrian for their appetites.

She placed her hand on the scanner and thanked the guard for his wish that she have a safe journey. A moment later, a base security officer introduced himself and indicated she should follow him to the shuttlebay.

***********

"Are we set?" Mitchell asked as the group started down the ramp to where their transport was waiting. "We should be on Risa in time for a late dinner, if all goes to plan."

"By my calculations, Risa is at least one half solar day away," Spock replied. "Given that plus the time differential, I would calculate we shall reach Risa early in that planet's morning, tomorrow. How have you arrived at your conclusions?"

"You haven't met my friend the black widow," Mitchell responded cheekily. He paused to point out a sleek little spacecraft, all aerodynamic perfection. It was totally devoid of color except for a gloss of titanium inspired rainbow effects that gave its blackness even more depth.

"Fascinating."

"Gary, where the heck did this come from? I've never seen anything like her!" Kirk ran a hand over the smooth outer hull. "She's a beaut, What's she do normally? 6?"

"Her name's officially the Black Nebula, but she's armed to the teeth as well. It's a security prototype. There are only two and we get to give her another test run. Oh and if any of you are prone to space sickness, better see Christine here. This baby's built to run at 7 as her normal cruising speed. But she can do 8 or 9 too, for much longer than a starship ever could. Come on, let's get aboard."

Spock was obviously amazed. For him. He pulled the agent to one side and continued his questions. "Did you say this ship's normal cruising speed is warp 7? How is that even possible? Most Federation ships cannot maintain that stress for more than an hour or two. The dilithium takes a tremendous strain."

Mitchell lowered his voice, not wanting the others to hear. "Well, Spock, this may sound crazy, but you've got yourself to thank."

Spock took the hint. "I see. My older self has been busy with things other than the new colony, I gather?"

"Just enough to hand us an edge IF it's needed. But apart from that, no, he didn't give away the farm regarding future technology or events. I'll give you the report to read on the trip. I'm sure you'll find it..fascinating, as you both say so often."

Spock resisted the temptation to ask about what farm that might be and chalked it up to another idiom he had yet to learn. It was clear Mitchell was well-informed on a wide variety of matters. He hoped they could speak in more detail at a future date.

The ship's interior was even more aerodynamically designed, with comfortable reclining seats that converted into sleeping berths if necessary. All modern conveniences were aboard, guaranteeing a stylish ride. Mitchell took his seat in the pilot's chair and buckled himself in.

"Wait a minute, Gary," Kirk exclaimed. "Don't tell me you know how to fly this thing!"

"Second chair, Jim?" Mitchell indicated the co-pilot's seat. "I've run her a half dozen times over the past month or so. This model's for use by our forces for the transport of personnel in case of a potentially volatile situation. One that needs quick resolution---and an even quicker way to get there. So yes, you could say I know how to fly her. In fact, when promotions come out, I'm slated to move up a rank---to captain. So I can't be hanging around as your second officer much longer. How would that look? Two captains on the bridge?"

"I see you're moving right through the ranks," Kirk responded dryly as he regarded the control panels.

"Could say the same for you." Mitchell flipped some switches and the engines roared to life.

"Excuse me," Christine interrupted. She neatly depressed a hypospray into each man's shoulder.

"I never get space sick," Kirk complained.

"There's always a first time, sir, and I speak from experience. I've double dosed myself already. Nothing spoils a journey more."

"She's a pistol," Gary remarked in low voice. The two watched her move to the back of the ship.

"Yeah, but you've gotta watch the settings, I think."

Christine now moved over to where Spock was adjusting his seat back. "I have an injection to give you," she told him.

"I do not think I shall need it," he responded. "But thank you."

"It's not just for vertigo," Christine explained. "I figured any kind of travel in a small, highly pressurized ship might cause your orbital fracture to bleed out a little more. Even though it's been healed, that's one of those unexpected side effects. The last bit of blood might decide to leak out under your dermis. And the last thing you want is to be sporting another bruise."

Spock tried for a bit of levity, sensing the woman's apprehension at what was ahead of them. "I am not so certain," he told her. "Perhaps since I am to portray a weather-beaten geologist with a penchant for gambling and female company, a black eye, as you call them, might only add to my character."

This elicited a laugh from the nurse. She stowed her gear and settled herself into the seat as the craft maneuvered to the open bay doors for launch. Her eyes closed.

"Here we go," she said, to no one in particular.

FIN of 3. Next stop, Risa.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers as in part 1.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 4/?

by Mistress V

Although Spock remained skeptical about the capabilities of their transport, he nodded in grudging admiration when the craft pulled into the orbiting Risan security spacedock a little after 19:00 local time. The ride had been smooth, thanks partly to the ship's size, which allowed it to bypass the main shipping lanes. These could become as clogged as any Terran expressway if condition were right. That and the pilot, naturally. He wondered how to ask Mitchell if he could possibly sit second chair on the return journey.

The group was whisked through immigration and onto the transporter platform. A few moments later, they materialized in what appeared to be the living room of a large villa.

"Welcome, everyone." An older man stepped forward, dressed in a tropical looking uniform. "I'm General Jasik of Risan Intelligence. You're in our VIP safe house, just up the beach from a popular vacation rental colony called The Cove." He nodded at Mitchell. "Good to see you again, Gary."

"You too, Marto."

The hum of a transporter began once more. The general motioned the group off to one side. They watched as a pair of females took form. One was Andorian, the other Orion.

"The timing couldn't be better. Ladies, welcome again to Riptide House." The man indicated the quartet beside him. "May I present Major Sarila of the Orion Special Forces, and Commander Thavat of the Andorian Imperial Guard's Security Division. Ladies, Commander Mitchell of Starfleet Intelligence and his colleagues Captain Kirk, Commander Spock and Lieutenant Chapel."

The Andorian woman stepped forward first and addressed Spock. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," she said crisply. "Finally."

Spock merely raised his eyebrow, right on cue. "And you, Commander. May I ask why you are so anxious to meet me?"

"Our ancestors have already done so. At the ceremony marking the founding of the Federation," Thavat continued. "I am honored to work with you."

"I am likewise honored," Spock replied.

Thavat turned to Mitchell now and changed demeanor in a heartbeat. "Gaz!" she purred, just before embracing him.

Mitchell reciprocated the welcome. "Fancy meeting you here," he said nonchalantly.

"Ahem." General Jasik smiled at the assemblage. "I'm sure you all have much to talk about. For now, I'll turn you over to Doctor Wisth here, who will provide the necessary meds to acclimatise you. We won't need to meet this evening, so I'll say we convene tomorrow morning here at 10:00 hours. In the meantime, you can check in with whomever quite easily from our communications center. Gary, I'll need to touch base with you briefly. And after that, you're all free to explore the accommodations. Do enjoy yourselves. Remember, it's Risa."

Kirk turned to the Orion woman and flashed her a smile. "Have *we* met?" he inquired flirtatiously. "You certainly look familiar."

"No, we haven't." The woman smiled back playfully. "But you might have met my cousin, who was at the Academy about the same time you were?"

Kirk shrugged off his embarrassment. "Really?" he replied.

"Yes, Gaila was the first one from *that* branch of the family to attend. Of course, I never let her forget that, seeing as I was the first Orion cadet. Ever."

"Touche," Kirk said sheepishly, recalling the woman's profile with instantaneous clarity. "Should we call you Commander?"

"No, even though I hold that rank in Starfleet, I'm still primarily watchdogging our system with my own forces. It'll be fun comparing notes, though. How *is* my cousin, anyway?"

"Er, fine..."

Christine hung back as the group moved through medical formalities. Mitchell immediately disappeared for a briefing. Spock and the Andorian were engaged in conversation about aeons past and Kirk was busy making time with the jade skinned lovely. She felt downright out of place. Once the Risan doctor dispensed her shots, she allowed herself to be escorted to a guestroom overlooking a large, horseshoe shaped courtyard that included a rock lined pool. There wasn't much to unpack, but she started in on that right away.

A tapping sound startled her. "Yes?" she called.

The door opened and the two female agents she'd been introduced to now came in. Both were attired in swimsuits and cover ups.

"Knock, knock!" Major Sarila said. "We're the welcoming committee. How you settling in?"

"I feel like I've just checked in to the Hotel California," Christine said honestly, not sure of what to do next.

"Don't worry, honey, it'll pass. Trust me, we've been through this more times than you could imagine. What shall we call you, for now? Christine? Or Chris?" This from the Andorian.

"Chris will be fine. I'll admit, I haven't given much thought to another name. The news I just was given has been a little unsettling."

"You mean about old dirtbag Rick?' Midlife crisis if you ask me, seen a hundred of them in my time, maybe more. By the way, call me Sari. It's easier." The Orion woman spoke as she looked through a large closet. "Hmm. That last op here was nowhere near your size. A good enough excuse to shop till we drop tomorrow."

"Last op?" Christine asked, perplexed. She couldn't even wrap her thoughts around the possibility Roger had betrayed her.

"Hon, you wouldn't believe how popular this stop is," the Andorian now added. "All kinds of things happen on Risa, behind the scenes. For us, this is a walk in the park. And I'm just Thava. No ranks here."

"We're going for a swim. With any luck, some of the local agents stationed here will join us for some water volleyball. My blue friend here has a lethal spike. Then we'll see what the kitchen staff can whip up for us. You game, Chris?"

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Sure," Christine replied with a smile. "Lead on."

***********

Spock came out onto his deck and surveyed the action in the courtyard below. A vigorous game of aquatic volleyball was in progress, and Mitchell had wasted no time participating. His gaze moved from female to female, noting each one's attributes. Mere research for his role, he told himself. But try as he might, he could not keep his eyes off the only Terran in the batch. This was disquieting, especially since his inbox had contained nothing from Nyota.

"Nice view, eh. Spock?" Kirk's voice prodded.

Spock addressed his next door neighbor. "It is adequate," he stated, indicating the moonlit sea that shimmered just beyond the courtyard's end. "Most different to my homeworld."

"You mean you've never seen any tropical environment before now?"

"I have not experienced this particular setting, no. My extreme climate training included deserts and arctic regions, but not this."

Kirk smiled. "Let's go down and join in. Come on. It'll help break the ice. Have you ever played volleyball before?"

"I have, at the Academy. But this form is decidedly different." Spock raised an eyebrow as he watched Christine set up a serve for her Andorian teammate.

"So, you can be the ref. I hear Vulcans are supposed to be impartial, anyway. Get a move on, before I have to order you."

Spock assented, but in his heart he knew no order would be necessary.

************

Warplag, tropical breezes, the sound of nearby waves and exotic birdsong all combined to awaken Christine early. She showered and dressed in a loose cotton tunic, then made her way towards the balcony. The view was spectacular, she thought. There were at least a dozen guest suites built around the pool courtyard and they all looked to be as spacious as hers. At the end of it all, a sugary sand beach beckoned, bordering the warm crystalline aqua waters the resort was known for. A low outbuilding served as staff quarters, she knew, from a late night walk with her fellow guests. And several large, separate quarters were built into the nearby hillside---ultra VIP digs, she was told. The Risans certainly knew how to combine business and pleasure. From the exterior, the place looked like any luxe vacation complex.

Her door chime sounded and she hurried to let in her guests.

"Morning, Chris. We wake you?" Thava asked. She held up a large stasis container. "Coffee, fresh brewed, if you're interested."

"I've never met a caffeine I didn't like. What's that for, though?" Christine pointed to a portable computer that Sari was setting up on the patio table.

"Time for your new look, my dear. Thava, will you do the honors?"

"Sure." The Andorian produced a small data recorder and made careful sweeps of Christine's head, neck and face. Then she fed the readings into the computer banks.

"That's me!" Christine exclaimed. "Wait a minute," she continued, seeing her blonde hair disappear from the image. "No one said anything about my being a Deltan, you know!"

"Relax, hon." Sari looked her over with a critical eye. "Hair down," she said.

Christine did as she was asked and held still as both women examined her tresses, assessing length, texture and fullness.

"I think clean and geometric," Sari finally said, punching in some codes. "What's your natural color, Chris?"

"You know this isn't mine?" Christine touched a hand to her head, mortified that her roots were probably showing.

"Whoever said blondes have more fun wasn't playing with a full deck, sweetie. There are more colors in the galaxy then you could imagine," Thava laughed, indicating the royal blue highlights in her flaxen mane.

"I'm a few steps lighter than you, Sari," Christine said. "My mom called it nutmeg, if that makes any sense."

"That'd be a nice shade. Close to my own, my Terran hairdresser calls it cinnamon." She turned the screen so the woman could see a mockup of a severe chin length bob with bangs cut diagonally across the forehead from short to long. "And the proportions frame your face so that your jawline is disguised.".

"No." Christine now shook her head adamantly. " Style yes, but not as a brunette. Roger knew me that way. And as a redhead. And finally this color. I hate it, by the way. Makes my hair break off something awful."

"It looks great with your skin tone, though. Good trichology. What haven't you been, I wonder?" Thava bit her lip and thought. "I've got it. Midnight orchid."

"PURPLE?" Christine now gasped. "I'm supposed to be Terran, remember?"

"It's a dark black from the violet family," Sari reassured her. "See for yourself."

Christine regarded the image presented. "Nice, and the total opposite of who Roger knew. I like it," she finally declared. "But my blue eyes have to go. Roger knew them all too well."

"I think I have just the ticket," Sari offered. She called up additional data and the three women watched as Christine's ordinarily ice blue irises changed to a deep grayish blue. The effect was quite stunning---even on a computer.

"Wow! What's that called? Maybe I'll keep it!" Christine joked.

"Polar spring."

"That about sums up my feelings towards Roger, or Rick, or whatever he calls himself these days." Christine held up her coffee mug. 'To the demise of dirtbags everywhere," she proposed.

************

Spock also was an early riser. He'd been up in the grey of dawn and done a brief meditation to settle himself. Then a vigorous walk into the hills behind the villa. He'd seen Christine on her balcony as he was returning and wondered how she was adjusting, especially emotionally. The human concept of putting on a brave face, as he'd learned, was nowhere near as simple a task as it was for a Vulcan. Even for a half Vulcan

Female giggles interrupted the perusal of his background persona's information. He glanced out the window and saw his shipmate out on her deck, laughing merrily with the two female operatives. Her features were animated with humor, something he rarely saw on board ship when business ruled the order of the day. That was not so unusual, except that the air of sad uncertainty he'd first noticed when she came aboard, and which had dogged her through the first weeks settling into duty, at last seemed to be dissipating. Perhaps only for the duration of this mission, or perhaps a sign of a true sea change. And the thought pleased him.

He'd first noticed the subtle shift during the prior night's water volleyball contest. As Jim predicted, he'd served as ref. Though his calls were fair, they were naturally the subject of humorous complaints by the players. At one point Christine had muttered, 'blind as a bat' and he'd not even thought about the illogic of the saying she used, he'd simply shrugged and stated, "In your opinion," and thrown the ball back into play. After the contest, they'd all had an informal late meal and learned about each other's backgrounds. Kirk and Mitchell's outrageous attempts at the most unbelievable tale added spice to the already delicious food on offer. Despite his practical side chiding him for participating in such illogical behavior, he'd enjoyed the time spent and chalked it up to the learning experience. The next few days were likely going to be full of those. As he'd heard many times in his Academy days, what happened on Risa stayed there and he finally saw the logic of the statement.

**********

The women were completing the transformation into The Ladies Who Shop in Christine's room.

"The guys are supposed to head out to the marina. This pair goes there quite a bit, so it's a case of see and be seen," Sari explained as she attached a faux fall of sunsplashed gingery curls to the back of her head. The transition from all business to resort babe was remarkable. "There," she told her reflection with an air kiss.

"Shouldn't we go too?" Christine asked as Thava set a day version of her new raven hued hairstyle, a simple French braid, into place.

"Nope, they're going to spend wads of credits on renting a powerboat to show off. It's a male thing," she replied, tucking in some last errant wisps. "We're going to spend wads of credits shopping. Sky's the limit, though we don't get to keep much of our spoils. It's not bad, though, getting to play Pygmalion now and then. Sure beats being sequestered in some awful dive, watching weapons runners do business for the umpteenth time."

"Word'll get back to Mutt and Jeff that some new arrivals are splashing out. That'll be sure to get an invite to the casino, but if not, one of the Risan operatives can take care of that," Sari added. "Now where are your eyes?"

"In my head?" Christine giggled, just as the doorbell rang and a staff member appeared with the tinted contact lenses.

It only took a moment for Christine to pop the light hydrated discs into place. They were weightless and almost unnoticeable, which was good since she'd be in them for the next however many days. She gazed at her reflection and was stunned to see an almost total stranger staring back at her. "Wow," she whispered.

"Wow indeed! Now what about a name?" Sari asked.

"How about...." Christine began. Her companions clapped in approval.

**************

The trio made their way downstairs and were just helping themselves to the breakfast buffet when the rest of the group appeared.

"Nice, very nice," Mitchell began. "But who's this?" he asked in amazement, pointing to the former Christine Chapel.

"It's Jett," she responded coolly. "With two t's."

And with that, Jett sat down and opened the first chapter of her new life.

FIN of 4.

For Christine's new look, think Abby of the TV show NCIS.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimers as in part 1.

I am getting creative about Orion here, as I mentioned earlier.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 5/?

by Mistress V

The males in the group also had undergone transformation. Mitchell and Spock both sported designer stubble, and Mitchell's features were made even more roguish by the appearance of a small scar under his left eye. But it was Kirk who'd had the most work done. His sideburns were long and tapered, and a full mustache was adorning his upper lip.

"Very nice, gents," Thava said appreciatively.

General Jasik joined the party. "I'm glad you're all looking so well this morning," he began. "And I look forward to your further transformation for this evening. Let me say first how much I appreciate your all participating in this joint mission. Although it's not the usual dangerous venture, it still requires caution from all team members. I will expect you follow the orders of my friend Gary here to the letter. But don't worry, our operatives will be in the wings, so to speak, if anything really goes wrong.

"As you know, Risa was founded on the tenet of pleasure and we welcome the quadrant, no matter who they might be. As the Klin say, in the capital city all is neutral. We like to think that on our *entire* world, the same principle applies. So when something questionable arises, we do our best to nip it in the bud. That's why you're here. But the ramifications may be even further reaching and for that analysis, I turn you over to the Federation's representative. Gary?"

"Thanks, Marto." Mitchell gave the older man a friendly nod. "I'll get right to the point. There's reason to suspect the characters we've identified, Mudd, Kirby and Rocco, may be engaging in trafficking. That's illegal in Federation territory, no matter where it happens. Considering their relative inexperience, it's likely someone else is calling the shots and we need to find out who that is. The fact the Orion syndicate has an interest might mean they're not behind it---or maybe they are. There are several rival factions in that organization, which is trying to thwart the Confederacy's preliminary application to the UFP. That's on the agenda for the upcoming Babel conference. Add to that that the council is also voting on the admission of Coridan. That world, as you know, mines almost half of the quadrant's dilithium, something the syndicate would love to control formally. By disrupting their own system altogether, it might cause the council to table the admission of Coridan as well, due to its reputation as the Wild West of its own location."

"We're supposed to be ferrying the delegates to Babel for that conference," Kirk interrupted, seeing a much bigger picture.

"Precisely why you're here, Jim. Who better to have firsthand knowledge of whatever we find out? And let me stress, our activities today are merely to obtain data, nothing more. The first order is to ascertain if Kirby is in fact Roger Korby. And after that, to find out what the goings on behind the scenes are. Kirby's the silent partner, oversees everything. Mudd and Rocco do the public work. Hopefully, we'll make successful contact with then all. We'll go our separate ways for now and convene back here at 17:00 for an early dinner. And after that, hopefully, we're off to the casino."

Dr. Wisth now appeared. "Gents, if you please," he entreated. "Your concoction against sunburn, warplag and overindulgence. Ladies, I'll get to you in a a moment, sir, we have a special extra for you," the physician said to Kirk. He depressed another spray into his arm "You won't be sunburned, but in a few hours, you'll be a nice crustacean shade."

"What?" This was news to Kirk. "Gary, what's he saying?"

"You need to look sunburned this evening, my friend. You've been given a formula that'll mimic the burn but not the pain. Trust me, it's necessary, in case we need to make a hasty exit."

"First I'm a used flitter salesman, then I get this overgrown caterpillar on my upper lip, now I have do do an imitation of a Risan lobster? Why, Gary, why?" It was clear actually being a spy didn't add up to Kirk's grandiose expectations.

"Call it payback, and also because you're my friend. Face it Jim, on this adventure, you're the straight man. Leave it all to me, I won't let you down," Mitchell said reassuringly.

*****************

"Whew," Christine exhaled some hours later. "I haven't spent so many credits since I won the department pool once."

"Big jackpot?" Sari asked as she summoned the waiter.

"Naah, but enough to buy some nice things. I'm not sure about these shoes, though. Are you sure it'll work?" She tapped a sandaled foot against one of the colorfully bagged parcels.

"You said Roger hated black and white. So now he'll ignore you, right?" Thava reasoned.

"Ladies, good afternoon and welcome to the Cafe de Sol. What may I get you?" A handsome Risan male now appeared, flashing a bright smile.

"The usual for us, Joc, but for our friend here...?"

"Samarian Sunset," Christine said with an equally bright smile.

"Don't worry, he's one of us," Sari whispered conspiratorially. "But since the doctor gave us all enough antitox for a crate of Risan champagne, we can indulge."

Joc appeared in a few moments, bearing the trio's drinks. He took their luncheon orders and glided soundlessly away.

"Nice rear thrusters," Thava observed.

Christine tapped the rim of her glass with a spoon and the three watched as the previously clear liquid transformed into a multicolored beverage. "Cheers," she offered.

The food soon arrived and the woman tucked in, conscious they probably wouldn't be eating again till much later. Around them, groups of holiday makers from all over the quadrant enjoyed the Mediterranean-styled local cuisine with gusto. The day was pleasantly warm, with briny zephyrs sending the crisp tang of the nearby ocean through the cafe.

Christine regarded a plump shrimp in her Risan paella and speared it. She started giggling as she brought it closer for inspection.

"What's so funny? I'm sure it's the same as they have back on Terra. I've had some great seafood in Greece when I visited," Sari asked.

"I'm just imagining what...Jim will look like this evening. Maybe a bit like this?" She twirled the crustacean around. "I don't think he's very pleased with his lot. Why's he part of this, anyway?" Then her eyes widened a bit. She gave a surreptitious glance around as an afterthought.

"Don't worry," Sari waved a hand dismissively. "You haven't blown anything. We're certainly not being tailed. In a nutshell, you know why you're here. Gary's going to oil a muddy wheel to see if it can be used. And I'm overseeing a certain interest. It would be more difficult with two guys, so we needed a third to just act like an obnoxious tourist. Gary suggested his friend, otherwise I'd be paired with a local."

"It seems to be an enjoyable learning experience for him, doesn't it?" Thava sipped at her martini, savoring the large chunk of ice that chilled it.

Sari's expression suddenly changed. Her features shaded over the same as if the sun suddenly hid behind a fat cumulus cloud. "Look at that," she said darkly.

The others followed her gaze. Headed their way was an obese Tellarite. His fleshy abdomen was straining an already growing space between his tropically printed shirt and shorts that should never have seen the light of day, especially on him. But he object of Sari's attention walked perhaps ten paces behind. A dark haired, malachite skinned slave girl was slinking along languorously, arms filled with her companion's shopping. She wore the scanty attire that was known across the quadrant and beyond.

As the girl passed, Sari called out something in a low voice. The girl merely gave her a sidelong glance and continued strolling in the porcine male's wake.

"That's odd." Now Sari looked puzzled. She signaled for another round of drinks to go with their dessert.

"What?" Christine asked.

"I said something that should at least have elicited a reaction. She didn't even blink."

"Maybe she speaks another dialect," Thava offered.

"Could be, but I told her I hope he's giving you your money's worth. It's a kind of badge of honor for those woman, as crazy as it sounds. They're the property of their owner, but they feel they have the upper hand and control everything. She should have reacted, maybe even laughed. Nothing." Sari tapped her fingers along her cheek, thinking.

"Could she just be in a costume? Something he wanted her to be?" Christine postulated.

"Maybe. But playacting would still attract the attention of the syndicate. You see, even though the women are bought and sold, the ultimate owner still pays a tax back to the organization. Doesn't matter where the lady ends up, a price has to be paid or else. And the boys don't take kindly to folks cutting in on their commodity. We had an incident on Wrigley's Pleasure Planet awhile back. Some enterprising fool decided to offer Orion fantasies with non Orion models, ones who were made up. It lasted about a week. Some visitors trashed the place, and him."

"They play nasty," Thava agreed. "Let's just say I know firsthand. I saw what was left of the owner."

"Ha." Sari's mouth grew hard. "Me, too, especially. I didn't have the luxury of growing up on Orion Prime. My parents were colonists on one of our outer worlds. It was back before the Confederacy started cleaning things up. The provincial government was as corrupt as anything you've read about. The syndicate ran the show, and they made sure everyone knew it. And one of the ways they did was to demand payment from families there---in the form of a daughter."

"How come...?" Christine didn't finish the question.

"I was too thin, too bookish for them. A skinny, smartassed inductee would take much longer to conform. So I was passed over. And thankfully, there was only my brother, who joined the military as soon as he was able. He's in the senate now, working to eradicate that scourge. But it's an uphill battle. The ladies still fetch a very high price so the risk is worth it to some. As for me, my attitude and intellect is being used to help as well. My revenge."

"Gary said there's a way of tracking these women, and so did you. How?"

Sari made a face in Christine's direction. "It's terrible, but all part of the process. The first thing that happens when a girl is given over---and this is usually well before puberty----is that a transceiver of sorts is implanted in her third vertebrae. It grows with her and becomes impossible to be removed without killing the host. Then the recruit is pumped full of drugs that make her more feminine, play up her base instincts. Discipline, if you can call it that, too nice a word. The spirit's broken over time. The hair is permanently augmented so it's the dark shade we all know. And then the finished product is marketable.

"The microchip sends a signal that can be read anywhere, and the data is updated with every transaction that takes place. Even if a woman is given as a gift to another, which happens, the minders know and demand the tax from the recipient. On the rare occasions one is given her freedom, it's at a very high price from the owner, and then that woman has to pay a different tax every year or else she's in danger of being taken again." A tear now shimmered in Sari's eye.

Christine laid her hand over the woman's trembling one. "I'm glad to help, even in this small way," she said.

"Thanks." Sari shook herself and was once again the happy tourist. "Come on, enough of this morbid talk. We need to get some cosmetics and have our nails done."

"I've booked us into this fabulous spa," Thava began as they started down the resort's cobbled streets. "You'll love it."

"I may, but there's no way I'm having one of those glacier baths," Sari threw back. "This one's game for anything cold," she told Christine. "Most folks go somewhere tropical for a vacation, no, she has to play bikini volleyball at the Polaris Ice Festival."

"Brrrr." Christine shivered.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," the Andorian responded.

They laughed and continued meandering into the Risan afternoon.

Fin of 5.

Snow beach volleyball is on the menu at the Quebec Winter Festival, and many others. But Polaris isn't a real destination (though it exists in my other Trek fics as an icy world).


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimers as in part 1.

Although the late Ted Cassidy was best know for his made-up roles (Lurch, Ruk, etc), he was quite a handsome (tall) man in real life. And intelligent as well. I'm sure he had a vocabulary that extended beyond, "You rang?" "The old ones!" and "Uhhhh!"

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 6/? (

by Mistress V

The two parties met at the villa's front entrance.

"Good you're here, Gary," Sari said. "Get Marto and let's go to the comm center. Something's been bothering me and I can't figure out what."

They trooped into the spacious briefing room and took seats around the conference table.

"Computer," Sari stated, her voice authoritarian once more. "Show images from Risan location 1."

"What's your thought?" General Jasik asked as he joined them.

"THERE!" Sari pointed to the shot of Rick Kirby and his two evergreen friends. "I KNEW she looked familiar. Marto, we saw her today with a tourist, well away from the club."

"Was she working?" the Risan mused thoughtfully.

"I'll say. Computer, display all known bound Orions currently the property of a Tellarite." A wince crossed the operative's features, but the situation merited the accurate description of the subject matter, however derogatory.

A moment later, over a dozen pairs of pictures were up onscreen. Sari gazed at them closely. "They're not here," she said after a minute.

"I have an idea," Mitchell now said. "Computer, display all Tellarite males currently vacationing on Risa. Age range?"

"Tellarite middle age," Christine offered. "I've studied their biology," she explained with a shrug.

Several dozen more photos now appeared. "Porkers on parade," Thava giggled, but not altogether unkindly. She'd worked with a few of their operatives before.

"That one." Sari's tone was flat. "Computer, background?"

They learned the subject was navigator on a freighter when he wasn't vacationing on Risa. He'd been at the resort for two weeks and had another two to go before he was due to leave. There was nothing untoward in his record, not a scrap of evidence that might tie him to the syndicate or any other watched group, either.

"Just a tourist," Kirk said. "Like I'm supposed to be. You think he connected with her at the casino?"

"More than likely," Mitchell replied. "Good news, everyone. We met up with our quarry out at the marina. Well, Mudd and Rocco. Kirby was up in the pilot house of their yacht, though he did wave. Seems to be working on something."

"So the money did the trick?" Thava asked.

"Yep, we're all on the guest list for this evening. Mudd was oozing charm all over the place when he saw how much we paid to rent that power boat."

"Gary's as good a pilot on the water as he is in space," Kirk added. "Right, Spock?"

"Affirmative."

"Nice sunburn," Christine laughed.

"Thanks alot. But my friend here says it's necessary subterfuge. I don't have a clue what that means. All I'm supposed to do is be myself, only more so." Kirk's skin tone was indeed crabby red.

"Let's have dinner and discuss our m.o. for the evening. 22:00's a good time to arrive, things should be heating up by then," Mitchell suggested. "Then we can rehearse character."

************

Christine poured herself another iced tea and was about to go into the living room when Spock appeared at her side.

"Christine," he said politely, "Gary thinks that you and I should work on our background and interaction a little more than the others, since your role is so pivotal. Is that amenable?'

"Sure, Savat, darling," she replied with a purr, using the name he was to go by that night.

They settled themselves out on the patio and got to work.

"OK, you go first. Tell me about myself," Christine began.

Spock took her hand and began speaking, but his voice was as far away from what he sounded like on the bridge that Christine wondered if she was hearing correctly. He was...less polished, coarser even. And seductive.

"You are Jett. My partner Gary and I met you at a bar on Harod IV. You and your roommate Thava work there as servers. You were born in space to a freighter family, one of the space boomer generation, so your loyalties are fluid. I found you...amusing. When Gary and I negotiated our most recent deal with a mining company, he decided to celebrate with a trip to Risa and invited you both to accompany us." His gaze moved from appreciating her fingers to meet her eyes directly. "Your chief duty is to be my chip holder when I play tongo. Though there are...other duties you perform in private."

Christine felt her face turn a flaming shade of persimmon. "Good," was all she could manage. Her hand felt like it was in a plasma conduit. She'd heard Vulcans were touch telepaths. Now she understood.

Spock dropped the hand and poured out some ice water for her. "My people were not strangers to espionage," he said steadily, himself once more. "As you well know, in the centuries leading up to the Federation's founding, our agents were engaged in several clandestine operations of note."

"Isn't it a problem, showing emotion the way you just did?" Vulcan physiology was still a mystery to many, not helped by the fact the race had been habitually close mouthed about it. The recent events were changing that.

"We control our emotions, not repress them altogether. With a properly disciplined mind, anything is possible. I believe Admiral T'Pol said that on many occasions. She herself was one of Vulcan's most decorated special agents, before she decided to join Starfleet." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "Now, Jett," he drawled. "What about me?"

Christine took a deep breath, imagining Roger's image superimposed on the Vulcan's, and reached out a hand to lightly stroke the side of his face. Her companion did not draw back, in fact, he did nothing at all. But the heat and static electricity, that was what it felt like, were still an alien sensation to her touch.

"Savat, baby." She took on a sultry tone, one she'd seen and heard in clubs countless times before. Sort of an alter ago, one Roger never would approve of. "You're an old rock hound. You and Gary there, you prospect for mining companies and get fabulously rich, but then you gamble it away so you have to go prospecting again. You escaped what happened because you were out in the Rigellian system and chose not to go to the new colony. You like the life you lead. Your drink of choice is Trellamine whiskey, neat, though you do like Andorian ale on occasion. And your preferred game is tongo."

"And you..." Spock continued the rehearsal, never indicating it bothered him. He let his fingers tap her kneecap lightly, then drew an idle pattern there. "Adore champagne of any vintage. The more expensive, the better. You have a proclivity to get inebriated and when this happens, you tend to become...overly affectionate."

"Which you loathe." Christine removed the hand. "Stop that. How many times do I have to tell you, drinks and dinner first?"

Spock raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Exceptionally well done...Jett."

"We don't have to kiss, do we?" Christine now felt mortified again, but the question needed asking. Apart from chaste busses with friends and co-workers, she'd never done any serious tonsil exploration with any man since Roger. The thought was embarrassing and enthralling at the same time.

"Not as a rule, in public. In private, we have an...active sexual life. I suppose if a diversionary tactic is needed, however..."

The next second, Spock had grasped the back of Christine's neck and pulled her to him possessively. The kiss was brief and g rated, though to observers, it looked quite different. And then it was over.

"Now. Shall we sit as we would at the table and see how that is? Remember, should the need arise, you need only whisper. As you know, my hearing is excellent." Spock, obviously none the worse for wear, now produced some chips and set them up at his left elbow. "I prefer you sit here," he directed.

**************

"THEY look like they're getting to know each other," Kirk observed, indicating the couple's activities out the sliding glass doors. "Maybe we should, too."

"No need, a kiss is a kiss." Sari was having jeweled accessories applied to her emerald tipped nails. "Besides, you're a vidpoker addict so I'm just supposed to drink and look glamorous. Until you fall asleep, that is."

"Why---"

"I told you, Jim. It's necessary subterfuge." Mitchell spoke from the sofa, where he cradled Thava's head in a loose grip. Both of them were intently watching a tech staffer adjust a miniature transceiver in the Andorian's left antennae.

Kirk was not satisfied. "Why does he get to be James Bond while I'm just Felix Leiter?" he complained. "My name's even James!"

"Because I've got the license to kill, Jim. You're just the man behind the curtain."

*******************

Christine passed her hands over the front of her dress and gave herself a critical once over. Even if Roger was standing right there and knew it was he, he would still probably deny it. Maybe it was the geometrical haircut, or the dramatic makeup. Or the short dress, which fit like the proverbial glove and zigzagged across her body in bold swaths of black and white. Probably a combination of everything, she thought.

She sat down and crossed her fishnet hosed legs, regarding the stilettos on her feet. For once in her life she was glad she'd started wearing heels once Roger went off on his wild planet chase, otherwise she'd have some real problems with these. They were a good 4 inches in height, patent leather with impossibly pointy toes. One black, one white. To match the dress. The crowning touch was the ankle strap that snaked around, ending in a buckle held closed with a minuscule padlock. It was merely decorative---the closure snapped open with a touch----but the effect was devastatingly sexy.

Her heart was threatening to take up permanent residence in her throat. The enormity of what was about to happen was beginning to become clear and it frightened her. She had to be the most observant of the group, able to discern who Rick Kirby truly was, but without drawing undue attention to herself. That was no easy task. Her violet colored lips trembled as she took some cleansing breaths.

"Smile!" Sari came in and held up her hand. Then she spoke towards it. "How's that?"

"Perfect." Thava now joined them. She held up a small communications device, which showed a prefect image of the room.

"Good, all our extras are working." Sari tossed her newly extended tresses with a smirk. "I do love what they keep coming up with. Who'd have thought a rhinestone could be so useful?"

"At least you don't have to get circuitry in your ear," the Andorian grumbled good naturedly. "Please remember, don't shout at your hand. A whisper's fine."

Christine regarded the two. If she'd thought her own look was over the top, these two were galaxies ahead. Sari was swathed in yards of frilly, diaphanous flounces in every shade of green imaginable. The dress showed practically nothing yet suggested much more, and the owner wore it well. She looked younger, Christine thought, which was probably part of the character she was playing. Thava, on the other hand, was dripping sexuality. Her own gown, a slinky violet knit, complemented her skin tone perfectly. With her severely gelled hair and overdone kohl makeup job, she resembled a character from an old Robert Palmer music vid.

"Hey hon!'" Sari was kneeling at her side now. "You're doing fine so far. Don't get all worked up. Trust us, we have your back on this one. All you need to do is make a positive ID and we're out of there. OK?"

"What about tomorrow?" Christine asked morosely. "If it IS Roger, you know what I have to do."

"This is a half-brained operation from what we're learning. You'll be fine. And we're be right behind you if that plan has to be used." Thava held out a hand. "Come on, gorgeous. Let's go meet the guys. And enjoy ourselves!"

The men were waiting in the hallway and had dressed themselves up like peacocks. Spock had on a fashionably cut Vulcan styled tunic and trousers, and his hair looked like it has seen some styling gel. Kirk, red as the proverbial beet, wore a loud tropical shirt and cotton slacks, topped off with amber tinted sunglasses that looked ridiculous. Gary Mitchell, the smooth operator of the three, filled out a lusciously tailored, cream colored linen suit and a vivid turquoise silk jersey tank top

They made their way into a waiting fllittercab for the quick ride to the casino. Conversation was simple, they all went over their plans one last time. Within minutes, they'd pulled up in front of the brilliantly lit building and walked up the red carpet, past undulating fountains in every shade of the rainbow.

An imposing looking doorman, dressed to the nines in a midnight black tuxedo, was seated at a podium just next to the entrance. His piercing blue eyes were busily observing everything yet belying nothing.

"Rocco, my man," Mitchell said. "Good to see you again. Are we all right for this evening?"

Rocco's gaze flicked to the guest list on his PADD. Then he smiled. "Gentlemen, and you lovely ladies, welcome to The Light Year," he replied in a smooth, cultured voice. "Please go right in, Mr. Mudd is waiting to greet you."

FIN of 6. More to follow.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimers as in part 1. PG for suggestion, mostly.

Yes, I KNOW it's Harry in TOS. We're not playing on that playground today.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 7/? (ATOS-PG)

by Mistress V

Harcourt Fenton Mudd, known as Harvey, was waiting to meet his newest customers. As Mitchell had described him, the portly but jovial gent was full of overly solicitous charm.

"Welcome, gents and ladies, welcome to our fine establishment. What'll it be? Dinner and some champagne? Dancing in the lounge? A show? Or some games of chance, perhaps?"

"For now, we'd like a look around if you wouldn't mind?" Gary replied smoothly. "And how would you recommend we...divest ourselves of some credits?"

Mudd rubbed his hands together in undisguised glee. "This way, I'll show you the high points myself," he enthused.

The group was given the grand tour of the luxurious casino. It was full of happy patrons so business was obviously brisk. But the most aesthetically pleasing aspect had to be the glamorous female employees. No exaggeration there, and almost all the quadrant's races were represented. This included a Klingon, who manned a dabo game proficiently yet sexily.

In due course the couples split apart and positioned themselves as agreed.

Thava and Gary sat down at the sports book, where Mitchell began placing bets on a boxing-type match that was about to be broadcast live from the neighboring system. The Andorian crossed her legs, pouted her lips and looked bored for a few minutes, then began flirting openly with the bartender. Who just happened to be one of a few male operatives that managed to get inside the club as an employee.

Kirk led his nymphet partner over to a large vidpoker bar nearby and plonked himself in front of a terminal. He ordered drinks immediately but also made no secret of the fact he was slavering over every female that walked by. Sari was obviously just an ornament; it was clear his preference could change at will. But the Orion woman glammed it up and alternated between giggling appreciatively at her companion's victories and worrying over his painful (looking) sunburn. This gave Kirk plenty of opportunities to kiss her, which he did with gusto. Alas, it led nowhere. Despite her intentionally youthful appearance that night, Sari had not made senior agent for nothing.

Spock took a place at the tongo table, his chip holder the consummate silent butler at his elbow. There were at least a half dozen serious players already there so he slipped into gambler mode immediately. Christine gazed around nonchalantly, half searching for Roger, half observing the clientele, as she'd been instructed to do. She sipped at a glass of fine Risan champagne, grateful for the healthy re-dose of special antitox the physician had given them all before the evening's departure. The formula not only prevented a hangover, it neutralized the alcohol's effect in the body so the patron felt nothing but a slight flush. Of course, one could still *act* drunk and she knew she was under orders to get tipsy as the evening progressed.

"Chips." A perfunctory request from the Vulcan she accompanied.

"Sure, honey." She slid a stack to him while caressing his forearm but got no response. That was good.

The evening progressed. Still no sign of either Rick Kirby or Roger Korby. The casino got more crowded.

"Ya know, Harv," Mitchell said genially after he'd called over the roving manager. "My friend there and I keep saying that after we hit it big the next time, we'd like to take our profits and open a gin joint like yours. Maybe somewhere out in the Rigellian system, where there's plenty of room for...profit."

"A delightful spot and an excellent choice, good sir," Mudd replied, seating his heft at the next bar stool and accepting the drink Mitchell had offered. "Plenty of folks eager for entertainment and female company, especially out in the more wilder regions. Been there myself, you know."

"But how can we get a batch of talent like yours? What's your secret, man? I've been to the Vegas Planet and Wrigley's, and we even took in the Miss Quadrant pageant once. Nothing even comes close to the ladies you've managed to hire. We want the best, of course, just like you have. It's only profitable."

At this, the bartender brushed back his unruly but styled long hair and fiddled with his gold hoop earring, all the while concentrating on the holographic chance game between himself and his Andorian customer.

Mudd signaled for more drinks. "Everything is possible, my friend, everything. If you know the right people."

************

The club's doors opened and Christine almost fainted. There was the man named Rick Kirby, accompanied by the bouncer Rocco, who'd obviously just come off shift to take up inside duties. But what made her head spin was the woman on Kirby's arm. Beautiful, to be sure, but she was definitely of Cardassian origin and although the resort planet was neutral, that race was as much an enemy of the Federation as a Klingon or a Romulan. Except Cardassians seldom left their system, there was a war on. The prospects of how she'd gotten there were too much to contemplate.

"There's my partner," Mudd apologized, hastily vacating his seat. "Nice speaking to you, Gary. I'd better go check in."

"Why not---?" Mitchell's words were lost on the man's retreating backside. He turned to Thava. "Well, my bet got knocked out in the second round. What do you say we go for a stroll and play a little?"

"Why sure, baby. But don't forget, you promised us that moonlight sail later," she said petulantly.

"Course, honey." He slid an arm comfortably around his fellow operative, safe in the knowledge they'd worked together so often the chemistry between them was genuine.

Three separate vantage points observed Kirby and his companions. Mudd and Rocco exchanged a few words and then made their way towards an unseen office, no doubt to check on the evening's profits thus far. Kirby escorted the female on his arm over towards the dabo table where Mitchell and Thava were standing. They watched as he presented the woman to a well-heeled Yridian. From there, he began walking slowly around the establishment, a benign smile on his face. From time to time, he stopped to speak to patrons or employees.

"Powder you nose?" a voice said at Christine's shoulder. Sari.

"Sure, I'm dying to see what it looks like. Suppose it has latinum fixtures?" If Christine was nervous, she didn't show it. But her insides had melted into a volcanic goo.

"How you holding up?" Sari asked as they traversed the casino floor. Thankfully, the restrooms were in the opposite direction of Kirby.

"All right." Christine opened the door, glancing around nonchalantly. She pulled out her mascara and began touching up her eyes.

Sari did the same with a lipstick, having first ascertained, courtesy of the scanner in the tube's cover, that there was a surveillance device in the vicinity. She nodded at her companion and they changed tactics. "So?"

"They say eyes are the windows to the soul," Christine improvised, hoping her hammering heart didn't echo out into the main casino. "But I always say it's his voice that really tells it all. And Vulcans never say anything, so what am I supposed to do?" She gave a hard laugh to her image. "How's flitter boy? Where'd you meet him, anyway?"

Sari launched into her well-rehearsed lines. "In Las Vegas. He was there for some flitter show, and when he said his friends were going to Risa, I jumped at the chance to leave that dead end job of mine. I'm sick of being in the chorus, I want to be the star." She opened her eyes wide and gave her reflection an air kiss. "I figure where better to hunt for a new sugar daddy than here? Come on, let's go trawling. Old green blood won't even miss you."

"What about Jimbo?" Christine asked as they came back into the casino.

Sari only made a face that was universal to females everywhere. Then Christine grasped her elbow hard. Rick Kirby was standing just a few feet away from them, talking with a comely Bolian pit boss.

The Orion woman expertly steered them around the man's rear, where they paused to look out at the crowded floor. Although the venue was noisy, the conversation behind them was audible enough to make Christine feel slightly sick.

"Let's get a drink," Sari suggested. "And check out the talent."

Christine nodded, her throat closed off with dread. There was no doubt about it, the voice was Roger's, though she told herself she was imagining this.

They sat down at the sports book and ordered. The barman pretended to have a conversation with Sari, pointing out the supposed big spenders but in reality, they were exchanging information in low tones. Both women then toasted each other with a neat Aldebaran whiskey and they both downed their shots. From there, it was back to their companions. Christine negotiated her way to Spock's side, frowning theatrically when she sat down.

"Did you miss me?" she purred.

"Not particularly, no. More chips."

Sari returned to Kirk and wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed.

"You're getting drowsy, darling," she whispered against his mouth. "When I tell you to fall asleep, you're out. Got it?"

"What did you say, honey?" Kirk asked, feigning surprise as he maneuvered in for another kiss. His act turned real when a stiletto heeled foot made contact with his shin.

The play continued and Christine's act also continued. From her seat she observed Mitchell engaging the Klingon dabo girl in conversation while Thava spoke briefly to a passing Andorian hostess. As she was glancing over at Sari, her heart once again threatened to stop beating. Rick Kirby was nearby and he'd paused his conversation to look directly at her. For the briefest of seconds, their eyes met.

Then he began to make his way over.

"Honey," she whispered, even as she turned to watch the action at the other end of the casino. "Honey, listen to me."

"Yes?" Spock's voice was likewise low, so it was obvious he knew something was happening.

"He's coming this way and I don't know if he's made me or not. We have to act quickly. Here's what to do." She let her fingers trace the tip of his nearest ear as she spoke further, her expression outwardly calm. Inside, she didn't know whether to cry or scream.

What happened next took no one by surprise except those who knew where to look. Christine grabbed Spock and kissed him, expecting a repeat of the afternoon's quick, innocent peck. To her astonishment, he responded with ardor, although the contact was necessarily brief. Then he pulled back and said something in Vulcan. Rage crossed her features and she hauled back a hand, ready to slap. At the last minute she remembered his recently healed injuries, so she changed tactics and spat in his face instead.

"Vulcan pig!" she hissed, just before she stalked out in self-righteous indignation, crossing paths with Korby as she did so. To her relief, no one followed her.

Spock calmly wiped his face with a sleeve and resumed his game.

"Trouble in paradise, sir?" a smooth voice inquired.

He turned to find himself speaking with the mysterious Kirby...or Korby. It was apparent Christine had recognized the man but whether he knew who she was was uncertain. Spock knew to protect her.

"These Terran women, they simply do not know how to conduct themselves. They are amusing only for a short time," he said, with just a touch of scorn lacing his tone.

"I see. Perhaps I may have a solution for you. With your permission?" Korby had either not recognized his fianceé or was an award winning thespian.

"Indeed."

Korby motioned towards a bar and a moment later, the beautiful Vulcan woman from the intelligence photo joined them. Her eyes were obsidian, her thick dark hair drawn into a plait that hung over one shoulder.

"May I present T'Pera?"Korby continued. "She is at your disposal." And then he moved on to another patron.

"How may I please you?" the woman asked.

Spock slid the stack of chips in her direction and placed his hands around hers to position them the way he liked. "You may hold these," he told her. His neutral expression belied the surprise he felt.

**************

Christine hurried out into the tropical Risan evening, her heart thudding.

"Taxi, miss?" the new bouncer said.

"No, I'm fine. I just need to...cool my heels for a minute." She hrrmphed as she sat down ungraciously on a nearby bench. "Men."

The doorman took in a deep breath. "Just smell that jasmine," he observed. "Nothing quite like it, you know."

His words registered. Christine looked straight ahead as she gave the countercommand. "You should bottle and sell it," she replied dreamily.

"Everything all right, ma'am?"

"Yes, I just had to make a quick getaway."

"So I saw." The man indicated the small PADD he held, ostensibly to keep an eye on the clientele inside should an emergency arise. "You can check your messages here," he continued pointedly. "The reception's good."

"I'll do that." She pulled out her own personal comm device and hit a button. The view of the casino was almost as good a the one the doorman operative had. She decided to wait a few minutes before doing anything. Perhaps an opportunity to go back in would present itself.

Unconsciously, she touched a hand to her face. It was burring hot and not from adrenaline. Part of her was worried about the fact Roger had recognized her, though she felt he hadn't. What bothered her most was the fact that her insides had transformed from liquid goo to lit Roman candles. And all because of the kiss she and Spock shared.

His passion, and it could only be called that, had stunned her. She knew from shipboard gossip that he and Lt. Uhura had more than a platonic relationship, though it was speculated upon how much more that might be. And then he was a Vulcan, whose people did not kiss at all from what she'd read. Though what happened in private between couples was anyone's guess. No, the man who she'd just kissed not only knew how to kiss back, he was...enthusiastic in his response. She could still taste his tongue on hers, strong with the whiskey he'd been drinking.

The most important thing was to get through the next few days, she reminded herself. Once this mess with Roger was cleared up, and she was sure that would be the case, she'd be leaving the ship anyway. No more reason to be on board, Korby had been found. But now what to do with him? Rage still bubbled inside, rage at betrayal, deception, confusion. She breathed in the jasmine scented tropical air and sat, thinking.

***********

"Rock a bye baby, honey," Sari whispered into Kirk's ear.

Kirk, who was leaning a hand on his chin, merely obliged by closing his eyes and pretending to slide in and out of consciousness. But before he did so he noticed Kirby headed their way.

"Good evening," Sari said to the man, flashing her most flirtatious smile. "I don't suppose you have any tall, handsome hosts for me, do you?" She poked Kirk. "This one's got another 10 minutes and he'll be done."

"Not a problem, is there?" he responded pleasantly.

""No, he just overindulged too much. Sun, drink, I guess he's like a condemned man, eating his last hearty meal." Sari rolled her eyes. "Hopeless."

"Condemned? How so?" Kirby continued.

"He's about to face down a death sentence." Mitchell and Thava had now joined the group. "So he's going out in style."

"Death sentence?" A flicker of confusion passed across Kirby's eyes. Then he smiled. "Surely not matrimony?" he suggested.

"No, he's about to turn thirty," Mitchell corrected. "To him, that's death."

At this, Kirby laughed. "To be thirty again," he said with a slight shake of his head, then continued his rounds.

The minute he was out of earshot, Sari spoke towards her hand. "Coast's clear. Come back in," she instructed.

*************

Christine got the message on her comm device. She shut it off and stowed it once more in her evening bag. It took some doing to get back up, the combination of high shoes and fishnets was not a pleasant one on her toes.

"Going back in?" the doorman inquired.

"Yeah, my heels are cooled. Besides, they promised us a moonlight sail." She pointed up at the sky, where the full Risan moon was climbing. "Time to make good on that."

"Nice night for it. I'll get you a cab when you're ready."

"Thanks."

As soon as Spock saw her come back in, he leaned over and said something to his Vulcan companion. She reluctantly got up and left, a look of disappointment on her finely chiseled features.

"Ahh, you have returned. Good." Spock grabbed Christine possessively and kissed her long and hard. His hand investigated the neckline of the dress she wore and she felt his red hot fingers slip beneath the fabric and make contact with her skin. But she was too busy being kissed to protest or even react, except to enjoy what was happening. As much as her partner, it seemed. The oral contact continued for a few moments and attracted the attention of the right people. Then, just as abruptly as it began, the kiss ended. Christine fought to catch her breath and steadied herself onto a seat.

"I missed you too," she muttered.

Spock raised an eyebrow and looked at her sideways, but continued playing.

"If you two lovebirds are ready, how 'bout we head off to the yacht?" Mitchell asked.

"That would be fine.' Spock signaled to a nearby cashier, a pretty redhead, and converted his chips to credits. He then held out a hand and helped his companion to her feet, adding an extra coating of legitimacy to their relationship by placing an arm around her waist. Christine was still too stunned to react.

"Let's go," he said.

FIN of 7.

I paid a small tribute to DS9's Doctor here. Can you find it?


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimers as in part 1.

I Never Promised you a Rose Garden 8/?

by Mistress V

A special shuttlecab was purring in the casino's driveway within minutes. The group got in and sped away into the night.

"It's Roger," Christine said without emotion. "I'm almost certain of it. No mistaking that voice."

"I, too, have heard Dr. Korby's lectures," Spock added. "I feel the same way. But we must be sure."

Mitchell, who'd just finished speaking into his comm unit, gave a reassuring grin. "Thanks to the ladies, we have his voice and image. The team's analyzing that, and facial structure, as we speak." He glanced over at Christine. "Are you OK?"

"I'm kind of shell shocked," she admitted. Then she reached into the neckline of her dress and retrieved the casino chip in her bra. "I believe you wanted this?" she asked Spock.

"Thank you. There was no time to explain."

"I figured it out."

"I shall need to analyze this," he told Mitchell.

"Something up, Spock?" Kirk now asked.

"I am...postulating a theory. A most illogical one, but yet entirely plausible."

"OK, we're here," Mitchell interrupted. "Let's reconvene in no more than a half hour. Get changed and composed, but keep those thoughts going."

**********

Christine resisted the temptation to tear the garments from her body. They were not hers to ruin, but their very presence reminded her of the unpleasant duty that lay ahead. She put them carefully in the closet, removed her wig and contacts, and stepped into a shower hot enough to burn away all of her sins.

She hurried downstairs and joined the group, which now included General Jasik and several other agents.

"Thanks, everyone. I know it's late, but we have to meet while the memories are fresh. Looks like we have a long day ahead of us, too." Mitchell called up an image of Kirby taken that evening. "Our tech staff confirms the voice and facial structure are a match to Korby."

"But he seemed...different," Christine countered.

"How so?" Jasik asked.

"Like he was...I don't know, on drugs or something. He was SO nice it was almost out of character." Christine noticed the others were nodding. "Roger never was a people person. He always hated interacting with anything other than data."

"That may explain things," Spock stated. "It may be that Korby does not have an active role in the operation, that his presence is there to add an air of...legitimacy to the business."

"What, you mean Mudd's the brains?" Kirk asked in disbelief. "He's not that smart, trust me. He doesn't know port from starboard."

"I'd agree there." Mitchell frowned "From the conversation *we* had, he's as clueless about the business as we are. He just does what he's told. Spock, what are you driving at?"

Spock now called up the image of T'Pera.

"There were just too many anomalies for me not to question her very existence. First of all, her hairstyle was not seen on Vulcan in many centuries. In fact, she resembled a well know pre-reform opera artist, T'Aria, more than superficially. She has always been the standard against which Vulcan women's beauty is judged. When I spoke to her in Vulcan, her accent was stilted. When I made a comparison to Vulcan sexual preferences and the Risan practice of jamharon, she changed the subject. She was too eager to please me and in doing so, exhibited emotion that a Vulcan would not. Her knowledge of the new colony was limited. But the most disquieting thing was when we made physical contact. Vulcans are touch telepaths, and even casual touching provides some insight into the other person's character. With this woman, although her pulse was in the correct place, I felt nothing, nothing at all. And when I dismissed her, she was most adamant that I allow her to rectify what had displeased me."

"Sounds like a prostitute," Jasik speculated.

Spock shook his head. "No, she was not. A pleasure woman would have known that of which I spoke. We do not readily admit to this, but such females existed in our culture, as in most all across the quadrant."

"And so, your conclusion is?" Mitchell asked.

"I ran her DNA through the computer banks. Even though Vulcan is no more, our records were backed up offworld. Her fingerprint is a composite of Vulcan patterns but does not match any known citizen, living or otherwise."

"Maybe she was born offworld? Where records weren't kept?" Sari ventured, though her tone was also skeptical.

"That may be remotely possible, but I have a different theory." Spock took a deep breath now, unsure of how to proceed. "As illogical as it may sound, I can only conclude that this woman is...an android."

FIN of 8 and more to come.

The reference I made to the Emergency Medical Hologram from Voyager was to the Vulcan female, T'Pera, that he created on the holodeck. The doctor introduced her in much the same way.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimers as in part 1.

We know there was Dr. Arik Soong and Dr. Noonien Soong (both played by Brent Spiner). But logically, there must have been another generation between them (no pun intended). Enter Dr. Sanjay Soong.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 9/?  
by Mistress V

There was silence in the briefing room. For several moments, no one said a word.

Kirk finally took the plunge. "You're right, Spock, that's a pretty far-fetched theory, especially for you. How can you be sure these women aren't being held against their will---been augmented, drugged, taught how to act, specifically to please their customer? And are being watched at all times, with severe repercussions for anything they do wrong?"

"I thought about this, trust me." Spock was working some data on the keyboard before him. "There was just an air of..non-reality about these females. I spoke to several others during the course of the evening. It is my opinion that they are someone else's idea of the ideal companion. Only too much so. They are, simply, too perfect. Especially in their appearance."

"He's got something," Thava said. "The hostess I talked to looked like the Empress Thallona, who lived at the start of my people's recorded history. Our first empress consort. All Andorian women are judged by her beauty. Sure the hairstyle and clothes aren't the same, but that's who I thought I was talking to. And you're right, Spock, if I brought up anything negative she'd just change the subject. Not because she wanted to---it was as though she wasn't programmed to respond to anything not completely positive."

"You know, I got the darnedest feeling I'd seen that Klingon gal before," Mitchell now added. "And trust me, the ones I've met in my work were nothing like her. But I remember her face! How can that be?"

"Quite possibly because she is a well-known figure in Klingon culture." Spock hit a key and images of a half dozen of the club's employees now came up. He hit another key and adifferent photo came up beside each one. "Her resemblance to the Lady Lukara is almost uncanny."

"And they don't know enough about their own language or even culture." Sari was warming to the topic. "Because whoever programmed them was just giving an overview of that society's ideal female."

The group regarded the range of past and present beauty onscreen.

"We still may be dealing with piracy, surgical alteration and brainwashing," General Jasik observed thoughtfully. "That we know how to handle. But Spock, I'll grant you, this is a very interesting idea of yours---and not without its merit. Suppose we go with it for a bit? Let's say they *are* androids. Where the devil did they come from? The technology is still in its infancy throughout the quadrant, and is one of the most heavily regulated besides. No one could be building such sophisticated models without help. Or could they? Maybe following instructions?"

"Mudd can't tie his shoes without help," Mitchell snorted. "Chris, what about Roger?"

"The Roger I knew preferred an abacus," she replied with a sad little shake of her head. "He can build things, but an android? Not unless it was for the greater good. That was Roger's mantra."

"The Romulans?" Kirk speculated. "They're always up to no good and their technology's up there."

"No, Romulans would be hard pressed to smuggle anything in," General Jasik continued. "In fact, so would just about anyone. We're pretty tight shipped about matter like that, but there's always an exception. The machinery, the technology, if it exists, where is it? Korby lives in a small beach house. Nothing unusual that we can tell, and certainly no room for any big operation."

An image of a tropical chalet, high on some cliffs overlooking the bay near town, now was displayed.

"Well, if there are real women being held as slaves, where would they be? I don't think these two are sophisticated enough to have a network of underground houses," Sari mused. "Or not...I don't know how to put it…"

"Capable of building androids," Thava finished. "Besides, where'd they get the instruction manual? Off a box of Terran Wheaties cereal? OK, maybe I'm being silly, but I thought they locked up that fruitcake Soong and threw away the key. He was the only one who even spouted the real possibility of creating artificial, sentient AND intelligent life, and that was after his augment experiment blew up in a big way. Most androids that we know of are servant robots, that's all. Not capable of speech or thought. These ladies at least have some brains in their head---or is it circuits?" She now crossed her eyes. "Sorry, it's late."

"Dr. Arik Soong was the first to really postulate that theory, I agree," Mitchell nodded. "But the ideas died with him, though I hear his son Sanjay is now starting to research that probability as well from his father's notes. According to those that know, he's light years away from even the simplest artificial cockroach."

"And from what we saw, these ladies might be plying the galaxy's oldest profession. With a twist. Using its newest technology." Sari gave a disgusted harrumph. "I can only imagine the profit motive there. For who, though? Some unknown species, most likely. Maybe from another quadrant altogether?"

"Wait a minute" Kirk's eyes were glittering. "We're overlooking something. Spock, that behemoth who works at the club. What's his name, Rocky?"

"Rocco."

"Yeah, well, he sure doesn't look quite humanoid to me. I'll wager he's an alien of some sort. Where's he listed as being from?"

"His record states he was born in space, out of wedlock to a mother of an undetermined species," General Jasik read. He gave Kirk a sidelong glance, intrigued.

"Maybe...maybe I'M the crazy one here," Kirk continued. "But humor me. Spock, what do we know about the inhabitants of Exo III?"

"Very little, Jim. Christine, perhaps you could enlighten us?"

"Roger studied all he could. Most of the data was documented by other races that had come into contact with its artifacts after the fact. They settled in our quadrant well before their sun began to cool, but there weren't many space faring species around back then. Their whole culture is somewhat of a legend. Roger was determined to find out the truth behind that." She sighed. "It was almost an obsession with him. To find out who they were, where they came from...and what they looked like."

"Suppose they look like Rocco?" Mitchell asked. "Suppose he's one of the last inhabitants? Or a sophisticated android they built? After all, it's been theorized for generations that visitors from other galaxies came here and colonized worlds. There are just too many species anomalies out there. How about a sleeper ship, one that was programmed by its makers, who knew they'd never see where the final destination was? Maybe the ship was run by androids, with the would-be colonists in some kind of suspended animation? Or created once the ship arrived?"

"Like the myth of the S.S. Botany Bay, only more advanced technologically," Christine added. "Roger wondered that as well. But he never shared it with anyone except me. It was too wild an idea, he thought."

"We have two possibilities, neither of them pleasant," General Jasik offered. "Either there is trafficking and involuntary servitude, or an illegal, fantastic technology at work. And we need to find out the force behind whichever it is. Korby's the key, either way." His gaze fell to Christine. "Are you willing to go through with it?" he asked softly.

"Yes." Her reply was strong, though a tear trembled in the corner of her eye. "Because I need to know, too."

"We already put the basics into place," Mitchell outlined. "Mudd and Rocco have a standing weekly health and safety inspection tomorrow morning, plus the accountants will tag along for a little surprise visit. And we know Kirby---Korby---visits the bird and flower market every week without fail. All we need to do is make the connection. For now, everyone get a good night's sleep, what's left of it. And re-convene at 06:00 tomorrow. No, today."

As the group broke up, Spock walked over to Christine and touched her arm lightly. "Are you bearing up?" he asked, concerned.

"For now. I think the worst is yet to come, at least for me. But we all play a part."

"Don't worry, Christine. I have your back." Spock gave the woman a brief, comforting hug, well away from prying eyes.

"Thanks," she whispered against his shoulder."I'll count on that."

Fin of 9. More fireworks to come.


	10. Chapter 10

Never Promised You a Rose Garden 10/? (ATOS-PG)

by Mistress V

Despite having just taken a shower, Christine felt the need to scrub away the last traces of her alternate persona so took another. She dried her hair carefully and finger waved it with some gel for the hairstyle she used to wear when she was with Roger. The coif would quite different from the professional 'do her current job called for.

As she gave herself a final comb-through, Christine wondered how difficult it would be to channel her younger, more naive self in a few hours. That woman was galaxies away from who she was now---especially given the night's events. Seeing Roger, and she was certain it *was* him, hadn't conjured up yearning or love, just a knot of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Fear of what he was involved in, certainly. But an even greater trepidation that she'd spent the past years waiting for a man she no longer loved.

It was no use trying to pretend. This folly about joining Starfleet to search for him had been just that, a folly. Her sensibility instructing her emotion that she needed to find Roger and either marry him---or bury him. But what was the foundation for that? It had been eight long years since she'd first decided Roger was the one she wanted. Two of those years were spent falling in love with him as they worked together. But it was more a relationship of stolen opportunity rather than shared special times. Their work was most important, that was obvious. Romance was not part of any equation.

Christine frowned at her reflection. The silly young girl she'd been then! Content with fantasizing how it would be one day, when Roger came back to her from the stars. Of *course* once they were married it would be perfect. He'd settle down on Terra with their research and they'd sail into the sea of matrimony together. Never mind the infrequent messages Roger sent during their first year apart, before he disappeared. He'd been enthusing about how this was the first important step of many through the quadrant. Those steps would be part of their matrimonial journey together, right? What else could it be?

Wrong. The ring on her finger, pretty though it was, was nothing more than an attempt to placate. For the first year, it did its job. But after the expedition was declared lost, she used it to conjure up memories of the prefect man she'd longed for all through their relationship. The one that would be hers when the next project finally ended.

Face it. The man she loved back then was not the one she saw now. Even if everything worked out, it turned out this was just some silly misunderstanding, Christine wondered if Roger would want her back---or if she would want him. If that happened, how to re-build something that had a shaky foundation to begin with? Odysseus had a lot to answer for. She was no long-suffering Penelope anymore. What made her especially angry was all the time she'd wasted loving her fantasy of the ideal Roger. She'd made him into something larger than life when he was an ordinary man---and with feet of clay, possibly. Nothing could bring back those lost years. Maybe it was time to move on.

She liked her post on the ship. Part of her shared what Roger had loved about the study of strange new and old worlds far beyond the skies of home. The research she'd been doing was in another direction from that they'd shared, and she liked the unknown aspect and the challenge. Maybe this was something to pursue. Mr. Spock mentioned on several occasions that Starfleet might be interested in sponsoring her work on a more permanent basis, and the thought appealed.

Oh dear. Spock. The kiss bothered her even now. Not that it happened, but her reaction to it. Her lips and cheeks still burned from the memory. It was the first real kiss she'd shared with anyone other than Roger and the intensity took her by surprise. That and something else. Deep down, she'd wanted him to kiss her like that. It was dangerous and erotic, and she savored it. Oh, she'd always thought the first officer to be handsome, though distant and reserved as befitted his office and background. Their professional relationship was mutually respectful and comfortable. Nothing else. And besides, he was someone else's property, if you believed ship's gossip.

Speculation about Vulcan sexual practices was also the topic of idle chatter, even from her superior. So little was known about the race and now most of its populace were wiped off the map. Apart from Spock himself, the pairing of a Vulcan and an offworlder was virtually unknown yet now it looked like that anomaly might become the norm, if only out of logical necessity. Something she'd read about in a genetics seminar, when they'd discussed Archer and T'Pol's startling futuristic discovery. Though still shrouded in conjecture, the idea that a future where humans and offworlders mated and procreated with many different species over the generations was talked about enthusiastically.

Naturally, the gossip on who Spock would marry was rife. And when. He was an extremely good-looking man, that was a given. But the brooding Vulcan silence about him, his pursuit of logic over all other things, made him unattainable--and all the more desirable. Most all of the ship's female population would have done the horizontal mambo with the first officer in a heartbeat, if only the opportunity presented herself.

No doubt about. Uhura was lucky. But all this thinking was making Christine's already confused brain hurt even more. It was almost time to be getting up, this silly line of thought wasn't doing her any good.

She climbed into bed and let sleep take her off to a universe where the man you loved didn't go away and abandon the one he left behind.

**********

Spock finished his meditation but was still troubled.

Troubled at the idea of an android population being used for some nefarious purpose. That defied logic. But also because there was still no message from Nyota. Of course he'd explained to her that, logically, there would be little time for such communiqués. Perhaps she was simply heeding that.

What also troubled him is that he did not mind the silence. But even more than that, the memory of the kiss he'd shared with his co worker was burned into his brain, despite his best effort to eradicate it.

He'd enjoyed kissing Christine Chapel. More than any other woman he'd ever kissed. (Of course, there were not THAT many, but still).

And he wanted to kiss her again.

Fin of 10, more fun and frolics to follow.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimers as in part 1.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 11/?  
by Mistress V

Christine was just finishing up the last touches on her hairdo when her fellow operatives joined her, bearing coffee and pastries.

"I like that look on you!" Thava said, indicating the loose waves held back with combs.

"So did Roger," Christine sighed. "But my hair is SO fine, it won't hold a permanent wave more than a day. I had to pour on the gel to get this far."

"A good hairdresser can coax some curls out of that," Sari observed. "If you want to."

"At this point, I don't know what I want." Christine took a large swig of coffee. "Roger liked his women feminine, a modern Marilyn Monroe if you will. Since he's been gone, I wore my hair straight and businesslike. This...this style, it brings up all kinds of memories."

"And you're not sure if you believe them anymore," Thava finished.

Christine spun around, her eyes wide. "How did you know?"

"Honey, it's normal. You haven't seen this guy in how many years?" Sari probed

"Five."

"And now you wonder if he's the same Prince Charming that left you with a kiss and a promise, right?"

Christine frowned. "Yes," she finally admitted. "I'm...confused. "

"Let's get through the next couple of hours," Thava suggested. "Then you can work out whatever needs working out. Is that all right?"

"I guess." Christine did her best to sound upbeat, but Roger was not on her mind.

Spock was.

************ ***  
"There you go, ma'am," the tech pronounced. "Ready to work."

Christine touched the earrings she'd been fitted with. One held a miniature camera, the other a listening device.

"I never had pierced ears," she admitted. "What if Roger notices and asks why?"

"Say it was a whim, a girl's weekend somewhere when you were missing him. Play up to his ego," Sari replied. "Do you really think he'll notice?"

"Roger? Of course. He was SO traditional in his views. But you're right, I'll...improvise. " Christine gave a final stroke to the simple jeweled adornments she now sported.

The meeting continued.

"Rocco and Mudd will be busy with the inspection and surprise audit," General Jasik outlined. "Christine, you make contact at the bird and flower market. Get this man talking about himself. But don't worry, you won't be in any danger---we have operatives ready at all fronts."

"I'll be manning the center just near Kirby's home," Mitchell now added. "Routine landscaping has been taking place all week so our presence is explained. And if necessary, we can transport to wherever's needed. The vehicle you see is anything but a landscaping one, though we do our best to act the part."

"What about us?" Kirk asked.

"You and Spock are with me, there. As gardeners for now," Mitchell replied. "But don't worry, you'll be fully loaded."

"Not meaning to be a worry wart, Gary, but that's my crew member who's putting herself at risk," Kirk countered. "What about that?"

"We can't risk Korby recognizing the two of you, or any of you from last night. Christine's look is so radically different, she should be fine. But don't worry. At the first sign of trouble, we're in."

"I hope so," Kirk muttered, somehow uneasy with the whole operation.

************ *  
Christine gazed around the colorful tapestry that surrounded her. Every type of plant, flower, bird or patron was represented and she enjoyed the spectacle.

But then she saw the man known as Rick Kirby, and her nerves steeled themselves. He was wandering through a display of ferns, his expression pleasant but somewhat vapid. She took a deep breath and strode over to where he stood,

"Roger? Is it you?" she gasped. "Please, say it is!'

The man looked down, his gaze searching. Then he drew her into his arms and embraced her passionately.

"Christine.. .you are here? I had not even dared hope...."

A kiss ended the conversation.

FIN of 11, and yes, more to follow!


	12. Chapter 12

Never Promised you a Rose Garden 12/?

by Mistress V

Roger held Christine close against him.

"I never dreamed, darling...never. .," he murmured. Then he lifted her chin up and gazed into her eyes, puzzled. "But how did you find me?" he asked.

She took a deep, silent breath and smiled. "One of my colleagues at the university was here on vacation with her husband. She claimed to have seen you, that it really *was* you, so I had to find out for myself. I...showed your picture to a Yiridian concierge here and he recognized you as well, told me where you might be."

"My foolish, lovely woman. You took a great risk. Suppose you had traveled all this way and it wasn't me?"

"You were worth that risk, darling," she replied. "In my heart, I knew you couldn't be lost to me, that somehow, you were alive. And I was right." Wasn't I? she finished silently.

Kirby turned her in his arms and spun her happily. "You look beautiful! Just the way I remember you. But you must have so many questions. And this is hardly the place to answer them." He paused to buy a long-stemmed peach colored Risan rose from a vendor. "For you, my love, I know how you like roses."

Christine inhaled the bloom's sweet fragrance, grateful for something to keep her mind straight. Roger giving her flowers? THAT was new. "You're right," she admitted. "I *do* have questions, Roger. Is there somewhere we can talk, have some coffee, catch up?"

"A crowded cafe is no spot for such a happy reunion," Korby said dismissively. "Come to my home, we can sit on the terrace and talk all day if you like." He held up his hand for a shuttlecab.

"Bingo," Mitchell said from his listening post just down the road from the Korby chalet. "Now we wait."

************ **

From her seat in the back of the shuttlecab, Christine watched the Risan sights speed by. Roger was quick to point out the landmarks and places of interest. His arm rested comfortably around her shoulders, giving a sense of security she desperately needed. But despite the positive start to their meeting, she was still apprehensive of what was to come. She gave a surreptitious flick to her hair, her fingers lightly caressing the earring just below.

"Pierced ears, my sweet? What brought that on?" Roger tilted her head, examining the baubles with a professional eye. "Very nice, did you get them here on Risa?"

"No, I was at a conference with some of the girls in New York City and we decided to celebrate. I took the plunge. These were made by a merchant, just for me." Well, it was the truth. Kind of.

"How is everyone back at the university?"

Relieved at the sudden change of topic, Christine gave a brief summary of what had transpired over the past years: comings, goings, births, marriages, deaths, research discoveries and more. Roger listened attentively, commenting in events now and then. She was just finishing her news when the cab pulled up to their destination.

Korby paid the driver and led his companion up the broad walkway to the chalet's front door. He took Christine's hand and led her inside, then kissed her once more.

"I missed you, my love," he told her when the embrace ended. "So please, let's catch up on everything. You'll find a bathroom just there if you'd like to freshen up. Then meet me out on the terrace. I'll be waiting."

Christine did as she was told. The bathroom was modernly opulent, obviously made for guest use. She steadied herself against the smooth granite counter top and regarded her reflection. "Well," she said, pretending to address herself lest there was some kind of unseen surveillance, "here I am. Now tell me, how do I talk to the man I love after so long?"

"Just like you would to us, honey." The voice in her ear, Sari's, was clear and reassuring. "You're doing fine. We're right behind you."

With a final assessment of her hair, she decided the inevitable needed to be faced. Christine opened the door and made her way out onto the sun splashed balcony where Roger was waiting.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Here we go. I am kind of cobbling together I, Mudd and What are Litle Girls Made Of? in the next few chapters. After all, this is an A/U, so who knows? I always wondered about Ruk's relationship to the androids on Mudd's Planet.....now if life would stop throwing me the same curves I am throwing my characters, I'd be able to write more often!

I Never Promised you a Rose Garden, Lucky 13/?  
by Mistress V

Just down the road from Kirby's bluff top chalet, a work detachment of landscapers was busily doing its job. Risa took its title of the most beautiful holiday spot in the quadrant seriously. There were the unique angled Risan palms to be trimmed, intrusive, non-native species to be pulled up, and new plantings to be started. Everyone was busily at their task, pausing now and then to escape the bright sun in the large utility type vehicle parked at the side of the road. Of course, in addition to refreshments and supplies, there was a miniature listening post commanded by Gary Mitchell and two Risan security force commandos.

Spock and Kirk were on a tree-trimming detachment, their job for the day only to listen and observe. Each had an ear-implanted transceiver, the same as Christine wore. Back at the safe house command post, Sari, General Jasik and Thava oversaw all communications and made certain contingency plans for emergency transport were at the ready.

Everyone waited...and listened.

***********  
"So where do I begin?" Roger asked pleasantly. He poured Christine some fruit juice and tapped his own glass against hers. "Cheers," he offered.

"Well, where are the others? Brownie and Smathers?" Christine replied, anxious for news about the rest of the expedition.

Korby sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid they...didn' t survive that horrible storm." His hand covered Christine's protectively.

"What happened?" She was forcing the words out, suddenly afraid.

"The weather overtook us, just as we were heading for the caverns I mentioned. We had underestimated the ferocity of a planet whose sun had cooled so long ago. Remember, we'd only just arrived and had no idea what was about to happen. The elements were beyond even our imagination' s worst possible scenario. Our base camp was covered in meters of icy snow overnight and we couldn't move. Smathers...he tried to get back to the main compound, even though I ordered him not to. We...we never saw him again. I presume he is still buried there under the drifts that never melt."

"And Brownie?" Dr. Brown had been Roger's second in command, a good friend to the couple.

Korby's expression grew sad. "I'm afraid Brownie's health was his undoing. You know he'd been under advisement not to accompany the expedition. His heart---it couldn't take the stress. Christine, he died at my side, all the while apologizing for the trouble he'd caused. Noble, damn fool." Korby's eyes closed for a moment. "I buried him during a lull in the storm, but as I made my way back to the encampment, another blizzard overtook me. I...lost consciousness and prayed for my death. And when I woke up, I was underground in the very caverns that we'd been so eager to explore, in the care of two rather extraordinary rescuers."

"Rescuers?" Christine took a large gulp of juice. Could he possibly mean Rocco and Mudd?

"What do you know of my life here?" he asked instead.

"Not much." Christine willed herself to be calm. She squeezed Korby's hand reassuringly. "Only that you own some kid of...restaurant? That's what I was told."

"Restaurant? Yes, I do own that but it's part of a much larger establishment. I am partners in it with my rescuers, Harvey Mudd and Ruk, who we call Rocco. You'll meet them this evening."

"Who are they?"

Korby let his chin rest on his steepled hands as he spoke further. "They both found me, as I said. Mudd's ship crashed on the planet's surface when his engines failed. He'd managed to lock in on the base camp signal. And as he was trying to make his way out of the wreckage, he met Ruk. He was the last inhabitant of the old colony, who'd been living underground for many centuries. The activities had drawn him to the surface, to see what was happening. He and Mudd found me and took me underground. They saved my life, essentially. And for that I owe them everything."

"But once you were safe, then what? And why didn't you contact the rescue missions? There were two of them!" Something was starting not to add up.

"I was ill for a long time, with severe frostbite," Kirby told her. "And those missions you speak of? They were nowhere near our area. The planet is huge, Christine, with ruins scattered over many continents. They simply picked the wrong one to explore. There was no way of knowing anyone was looking for us."

"OK, I'll buy that." Of course Christine wasn't buying it, but what could she do? "How did you leave? And why did you come here, of all places?"

"I knew you would ask that. Christine, I'll be honest. To answer your first question, we cannibalized parts of Ruk's people's technology to make Mudd's ship workable again. Remember, our expedition was left on the planet with no way of getting off until a ship called for us. That was our only chance. At the time we left, I was still quite weak from the experience. Mudd suggested time on Risa might be beneficial to my recovery, so we came here. He was familiar with the planet. And it was. He began a small business with Ruk which became quite successful. So we stayed."

"What about Terra? Or letting anyone know?" Now anger was beginning to boil under Christine's benign facade. "And what about me? It's clear you've made a life for yourself here, one that includes all the comforts of home. Were you ever planning to let me---or anyone else you cared about---know you were still alive?"

Kirby took Christine's hand again. "My recovery was slow. For months, even years, I had no thoughts of anything but getting better. Of course, you were on my mind at all times, but as the sun began to warm my frozen limbs, I guess I just became a victim of that old malady, the Tahiti Syndrome. I...liked it here. Christine, I was a man fast approaching advanced middle age. The prospect of spending my life in such an idyllic place appealed to me. And there was work to be done, vast amounts of data we'd salvaged from Exo before we left. I was absorbed in that for years, while Mudd and Rocco began the basis of our successful business here. But you never left my thoughts. I simply thought you...had moved on. What was the point of contacting you? My own mother said, let the grass grow over the dead. It would have been painful for you, no?"

"I didn't think you were dead, Roger." Christine's voice now had an edge to it. "I waited and waited for you, even rejecting other offers of companionship. ..dare I say it love? I cried myself to sleep for years, wondering if you were alive or dead. You left me at the very peak of our relationship. It was like pulling out my soul. The pain was...devastating. I was left without feeling, just in a state of wondering where you were...and perhaps what I'd done wrong to make you leave me the way you did. You ran away to the stars, Roger. Did you run from me?"

"Christine, darling, no!" Kirby stood up and jerked her to her feet, then drew her into a passionate embrace. "Don't think such things. I...I was planning to contact you now, things were in the right place to do that. My work had produced some amazing discoveries and I wanted to share them with the woman I loved. It's wondrous, I tell you, simply astounding. I'd hoped I could share it with you someday in the future, but now it seems the future is here."

"What work? What you talking about?" Christine was confused, despite the passion she felt from the kiss they'd just shared.

"Come with me," was all Korby said.

***********

"We've lost the signal!" Sari exclaimed a moment later. "They've gone somewhere--- that's insulated. I can't get anything but static!"

"Tactical alert, all operatives," General Jasik announced.

FIN of 13. More to follow


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimers as in chapter 1.

I Never Promised you a Rose Garden 14/? (ATOS-PG)

by Mistress V

Christine accepted Roger's hand and was led through the house. She noted that many of the walls were hewn from the local stone, which was known to have vast and varied mineral deposits. A chill found its way down her spine. Was she cut off from the others now?

"Are you cold, darling?" Korby asked. He slid an arm around her shoulder.

"Not really, just the change in temperature was noticeable." She paused to admire the rock-lined fireplace. "This is lovely," she commented, letting her fingers touch the heavy stones. "Is it local work?"

"Indeed it is. Everything you see here, from the granite floors to the stone mosaics on the walls, came from the area. Rocco did much of the work, he's amazingly talented. It's wonderful insulation against the heat and if there were any storms, we'd be solid as the proverbial rock."

"How nice. It's very artistically done." Christine's heart began fluttering in confusion. What storms? What heat? Risa had been Terraformed. Its present climate was perfect, though centuries before it was flooded with rain and had major geological anomalies. The present climate was controlled by a sophisticated system that allowed for near perfect weather every single day. And that did not include blazing hot sun OR destructive tropical storms.

She stole a sidelong peek at Roger, but his expression was still neutrally pleasant. It was almost as though he believed what he was saying, even though most people knew otherwise. How could that be? Was he parroting what someone else had told him, someone who did not know the current history of the planet very well? Who?

"Come along, Christine. You must see my research labs." Korby pressed a button and a door slid open, revealing a curving staircase of solid granite. He took her hand once more and they negotiated their way down into a large workspace that was a good story below the house, built into the rock below.

************

"Still nothing. I can't understand it. Like they vanished into thin air." Sari frowned. "Could they have transported somewhere?"

"Negative." One of the Risan operatives shook his head. "We'd have seen a power surge. No, I'm getting a faint transmission. They're still in the house, but it's as though they're behind a solid wall of something."

"Rock?" Thava proposed. Her people were no strangers to living underground. "Maybe there's a sub-basement of some kind, built down into the ground. It could be that house is bigger than it looks."

"You may have something." General Jasik agreed. "The original house plans were submitted for approval without any issue. But there is nothing to say that extra work wasn't completed after final inspection. There would be no way of knowing if it was done without local contractors."

"But how?" Mitchell's voice joined the conversation from his listening post. "I can see the possibility---that bluff's way above the coast. That means they'd have had to cut through solid bedrock, and you can't do that without attracting attention."

"For now, fan out around the property," Jasik instructed. "Keep working and act nonchalant. We're looking for another entry way that can let us in if need be. Of course, if we haven't heard from her in a half hour, we may need to think about storming the house."

Kirk looked at his friend, concerned. "Gary, that's my head nurse and a damn fine bioresearcher we're playing roulette with. I don't like this."

"Neither do I, Jim. But for now, we just have to wait. Nothing's been done wrong that we know of, they could just be...you know. Getting re-acquainted."

"I'm still responsible for her, Gary. And so are you."

"I promise you, Jim. She'll be fine. Now get out there with Spock and do your job so I can do mine."

FIN of 14 and more to follow!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimers as in part 1. Remember, this is an A/U! Things are the same...yet.. .different.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 15/?

by Mistress V

Kirk wandered out of the command post vehicle and noticed Spock waving discretely in his direction. He joined his first officer near a bend in the road leading towards the coastal bluff where Korby's home was.

"What's up?" he asked, idly checking his pruning shears.

"I am postulating another theory." Spock's expression was impossible to discern beneath the protective sunglasses and hat that he, like the other memberf of the work detachment, sported. But his voice said it all.

"And that is? I'm worried about Chris."

"As am I. But for now, the object of my study is the rear of the hill there." The Vulcan nodded towards a nearby rise, which was covered with native plants and colorful rocks.

"Looks like any other hill to me, Spock."

"Upon further study it appears there is a dirt service road which leads around the back of the bluff. However, it simply ends there in solid earthen rock. I cannot discern any type of entrance whatsoever, or what such an entrance would be for." Spock frowned slightly as he re-calibrated data.

"Force field? Holographic projection? Maybe it's just the tradesman's entrance?" Kirk tried to be light, but his tone was flatter than deflated helium balloons the day after a celebration. "Let's tell Gary," he suggested. "Maybe you're on to to something."

************  
"And you say all of these items were recovered from Exo III?" Christine asked, amazed at the plethora of archaeological treasures that dotted the lab.

"Yes, and there are even more waiting to be discovered. Ruk plans to make another return excursion next month and I will accompany him, Perhaps you could come along as well. There's so much yet to be studied!"

"But Roger, the planet was covered in snow and ice fields. You said so yourself. Where did these people live if they were so advanced? This is very technologically detailed material." She continued looking through a medical text Korby had recently decoded, one that dealt with brain transplants.

"They had not planned to live underground. Vast city complexs, whose ruins are stil under the ice, were being prepared for them before arrival, by the scout ship crews." Korby held a crystal skull in his hands. "Just look at the workmanship here, and it was all done before Terra's humans were using fire."

Christine examined the object, her curiosity piqued, It was inscribed with meridians and points all over the cranium, and was covered in strange coded writing. "This skull isn't human, but it's definitely humanoid. Is this a model of their cranial structure?"

"Yes. They were so advanced, Christine, you wouldn't believe all the technology we can learn from them."

"But what happened to that civilization? Exo had no inhabitants before this. You said Rocco---Ruk- --was the last one left? Where did he come from, then?"

Kirby called up a stellar map on one of his computer screens. "From the Andromeda Galaxy, a planet that meant 'From the Light' in their language. This was it here, before the sun went supernova."

"That's centuries worth of travel, even with today's technology. Roger, how did they get here? And why did they choose Exo III? Surely they knew its sun was cooling?" It was an astonishing feat, however you looked at it.

"The Founders, or Old Ones, as they were called, had space travel down to a fine art. I'm hoping their knowledge will help today's design engineers. You see, they were able to slip through the space-time continuum as easily as your starship jumps to warp drive. When they arrived on Exo, and on the other colony outposts, those worlds were perfectly suited to what their needs would have been. " Korby now projected the journey's parabolic arc on a grid.

"Have been? You mean they never made it?" Despite the cavern being hermetically controlled to a comfortable temperature, Christine was cold and getting colder. But not because of the air. She was afraid.

"Their sun went supernova unexpectedly, well before the projected date. The escape mission was thwarted. Only a few scout ships had made it to Exo III and the other outposts, and those escapees were supervising the workforce that was preparing the new homeland. Eventually, these people died out. And the workers that remained moved everything underground to safeguard the technology. Some others left for another colony outpost on the far side of this galaxy."

"Workforce? Was Ruk one of these supervisors? They must have an unbelievably long lifespan." Despite fearing where the conversation was headed, Christine was morbidly cautious at the same time. What happened on that planet? And how had it affected Roger?

Korby took her hands in his and kissed her. "No, they adapted their scientific genius to create the ideal helpmates. Christine, these Old Oes had perfected android technology to the most sophisticated level imaginable And that technology is available here and now for my use. It's fantastic. Truly fantastic!"

"Androids?" Christine replied hollowly. Spock had been right, then?

"Well, I suppose you could call them that, but they're so much more. Come and see." Korby led them to an elevator built into the rock wall and pressed a button. "You simply won't believe it."

Fin of 15 and more to follow.  
You having fun yet?


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimers as in part 1. There's a nod to one of my other faves. "Dark Shadows", in here...

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 16/?

by Mistress V

The elevator doors opened onto another laboratory. Machines were humming in the background and a large plate glass window dominated one end of the room.

"Angelique?" Roger called.

A slender female came forward out of the dimly-lit shadows. She was petite and sported long auburn hair. With a start, Christine realized she'd seen the woman the night before---as her cocktail waitress.

"Hello, Dr. Korby," the woman responded.

"Angelique, this is Christine. You remember what I told you about her, don't you?"

The woman smiled a brilliant smile. "Yes I do. Welcome, Christine. Dr. Korby has told us so much about you it is a pleasure we may finally meet. You are as lovely as he described. " She nodded at Korby now. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Angelique. You may return to rest mode now."

The woman made her way back to a corner and sat down on a chair...and switched off. That was the only way it registered into Christine's brain.

"Is Angelique...an android?" she finally managed to whisper.

"She is. Christine, she was the first one Ruk and I programmed together. Her outside appearance was created based upon the recommendations of Harvey Mudd. It is really quite spectacular, don't you think? Perfect life, eternal youth..and eternal beauty."

"Ruk?" The word caught on Christine's tongue like too much peanut butter.

"Yes, Ruk. He's an android, Christine, but a very special one. The last remaining member of the outpost, left to maintain the machinery until assistance finally arrived." Korby's smile was still benignly pleasant.

Christine knew there was more. "You discovered this...on Exo?" she probed.

"I did. While I was recuperating, Ruk told me of the plans his masters had for their new world. All the machinery for producing helpmates was in place. Once Harvey arrived, it was a simple task to begin limited production. After we moved here to Risa, we could increase our manufacture."

Caution sounded in Christine's brain. She knew she could not discuss the casino unless Korby brought it up. "What do you mean?" she asked instead.

Korby hit a switch and the glass panel became illuminated. Beyond it, each in their own sealed capsule, was a female...life form. There were at least fifty, from all races and species in the quadrant. And some were not even known to her. All were...naked.

"See the fruit of our labors," Korby said proudly. "They are all androids, programmed by ourselves to serve in our business establishment. You'll see this evening, my darling, how well they adapt to the service mode. No need for food, drink or anything else. They exist solely to please." And indeed, the women all were anatonically correct, from the exoskeleton of the Klingon to the dual navel of the Tellarite.

Christine's attention was drawn to three veiled cubicles at the far end of the room, away from where they were looking. "And what's that?" she continued.

"Ahh. May I introduce Brownie, as you know him?" A light came on, illuminating a figure Christine knew well.

"But he's dead. You said so! I don't understand!"

"I said he died at my side and I buried him in the snow," Korby corrected gently. "Ruk managed to save his brain. It's awaiting transplant into the new android body we created for him. All of his characteristics and nuances will live on forever, essentially."

"His...brain?" Suddenly, the crystal skull she'd examined took on a whole new meaning.

"Yes, Christine. It is possible to let the person's essence live on in an android body for hundreds of thousands of years." Korby hit a button and another figure was illuminated.

Christine did her best not to gasp. It was a younger, fitter version of Harvey Mudd, with a full head of hair. "Who's that?" she asked innocently.

"Our partner, Harvey. As I said, you will meet him this evening, this is his ideal form. Like Brownie, we only need to transplant the brain to achieve final resolution. But Mr. Mudd has been...hesitant of late. Now allow me to introduce you my most special creation..."

**************

"Look!" Spock's whisper cut across the dirt. "There!"

They watched as a flitter made its way to the back of the hill, along the very service road the Vulcan had had mentioned earlier. A second later, a small portion of the hillside disappeared and a metallic hatchway appeared. The fliitter went though the raised door and then disappeared behind what looked like the original facade.

"Did you SEE that?" Kirk asked.

"I did, Jim." Mitchell hit his comm unit. "Have you managed to cut through that interference?" he barked.

"Affirmative, sir, but only with a limited range. If you go inside, you'll be on your own...essentially."

"What do we do now?" Kirk continued.

"Spock?" Mitchell now asked. "Find us a way in."

Fin of 16. More to follow, naturally!


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimers as in part 1.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 17/?

by Mistress V

"Roger, wait." Christine plucked at Korby's sleeve as she staggered onto a nearby chair.

"Are you all right, darling?" He knelt at her side in an instant, concern etching his face.

'This is all just too much for me to absorb. I need to catch my breath. Are you telling me that you and your partners are...essentially playing a kind of Frankenstein meets Gepetto role here? Creating life?" That's NOT the Roger I knew, she thought wildly.

"Not humanoid life, my dearest. These creations lack a soul, an essence. They are programmed only to help, to serve. Think of them as sophisticated computers, if you will."

"But Angelique knew my name and who I was!"

Korby smoothed Christine's hair affectionately. "Only because I programmed her to know about you. After all, she is essentially my assistant here, so why should she not know about the woman I love?"

"These...others. Do they know about me?" Christine persisted.

"Not unless I introduce you to them. There is a sub program that will then be activated. But it is minimal information only, to allow for social contact in the correct manner," Korby responded breezily. "Nothing more."

"How...accurately are these creations of yours programmed?" Another idea was beginning to form.

Korby laughed. "Do you mean can they love? No. They have no emotions, no feelings, Christine. However, physically they may service a male quite adequately, and he may never know he is not with the real thing. His wish is their command, after all." Korby motioned to Angelique. "Angelique?"

"Yes Dr. Korby?" she replied.

Korby now stood up. "Kiss me."

Christine gasped as the pair fell into a passionate embrace. Then her eyes grew even wider at what happened next.

"Now slap me," Korby continued. The android responded with an open-handed blow to his face. "Angelique, tell Christine what you were feeling just now."

"Feeling? I am not programmed for feeling. I merely followed your instructions, that is all."

"Do you love me?"

"Love? No, I am incapable of those emotions. Love is for humanoids."

Christine's head was spinning so hard she felt as though it would fly off her shoulders. This couldn't be happening, she told herself. Roger would NEVER allow his thinking to become so...warped.

"I realize this *is* all a bit much for you to understand, darling." Korby helped Christine to her feet. "Here is a memory chip I programmed for you to view at your leisure. It tells the whole story of my adventures in wonderland. I'm sure that's what this seems to be? As though you've stepped through the looking glass?"

"In a way, I guess so." She tried for a wan smile as she pocketed the tiny item.

"Well, now you can see what it really feels like." Korby hit another switch and light bathed a third encased android. "Christine, meet...Christine."

***************

"Spock, what's the holdup?" Kirk asked impatiently.

The Vulcan continued scanning the unstable area of the hillside. "It would be unwise to enter the same manner as the vehicle. Security systems may be in place. I am looking for another way in---it is only logical that one would exist."

"Rocco and Mudd are there now. No telling what might be going on!" Kirk's voice rose.

"Take it easy, Jim," Mitchell said reassuringly. "We *DON'T* know what's going on so for now, we need to presume everything's all right. That's why we can't just go storming in like the charge of the light brigade. Once we're inside, we can assess the situation so help can follow if we need it."

"But that's solid rock, Spock said so. We can't even hear the transmissions there'sso much interference." Obviously, Kirk was not convinced.

"That's being rectified as we speak," Mitchell replied. "We may not be able to see, but we'll be able to hear."

The image field warbled in one small corner of the hillside. A moment later, an old-fashioned looking door appeared. It only took a moment for a phaser burst to undo the lock. The three listened intently but no alarm klaxons sounded. A stone staircase led straight up into the hill's rocky interior. Everything was pitch black.

"Spock, what do you make of it?" Mitchell asked.

Spock took a data calibration. "This appears to be a workman's entrance, perhaps used during construction. However, there is no way of knowing where it goes. If we enter, there will logically be a risk---"

"Damn logic, Spock. My phaser says it's time to act," Kirk interrupted. "Come on."

Mitchell spoke into his comm unit briefly. "We're clear to go in. Spock, since you have the enhanced senses, I guess you'll lead. But we're under orders---NO theatrics or heroics of any kind. We don't want the Risan government to end up with egg on its collective face."

As they began to climb up the dank passageway, a staticy communication from deep within the bluff's interior could barely be heard.

"That's me, Roger," a female voice was heard to say. Then the transmission ended.

"That's Chris," Kirk exclaimed in a low voice. "Let's move!"

**********

"Yes, my darling, it is you. My vision of you," Korby beamed. "Just look at how perfect she is."

Christine stared back at the android, seeing a version of herself from when she and Korby had been blissfully in love. "Can it talk?" she ventured.

"No, I was waiting to program her. Deep I my heart I knew we'd be reunited, so I wanted to surprise you. We can write the necessary subroutines together. She'll be just like you in every way, my love, only better."

"But why would I want an android version of myself?" The concept was too big even to wrap the tiniest thought around. "Why would...you even think that?"

"There's more, Christine. With the proper procedure, your thoughts, your essence, could merge with the android body. Just think, you would live eternally, ever young, ever lovely, with all the same personality and soul you possess now. Isn't that an amazing prospect?"

"You mean...you'd kill me to put my brain into THAT...thing?" Christine's stomach began contracting in on itself in sheer horror.

"It's not death as we know it, just an elegant transplant. You wouldn't feel a thing, trust me." Korby's smile was benign, but something in his gaze had turned...strange.

Realization hit Christine like a bucketful of arctic water. "What are you saying?" she stammered.

"When Ruk and Mudd found me, my legs were gone. I was dying, Christine, almost completely done for. Ruk saved me and I am now here with you as you see. Only better." Korby kissed her once more, then drew back. "Surely I still feel the same to you, darling? Don't I?"

"You---you're...an android?" Christine seized Korby's wrist hard. "You have a pulse!" she sputtered. "You breathe! And I saw you drink something. How could you be an android?" She closed her eyes and vehemently shook her head. "I don't believe you. Stop playing games with me!"

"I realize this must be a tremendous shock. Try to understand. Yes, I have a pulse. Not of blood, but of biochemical lubricants that regulate my circuitry. My breath controls the thermal subroutines. And what you saw me drink was silicon-based nutrient formula that keeps my joints oiled, as we used to say. You see, my persona was constructed differently from the others--in the manner Ruk himself was made by the Old Ones. To keep the person's brain, essence, soul, all intact---forever." Korby pointed to the Christine android. "You can join me, darling. Just think how wonderful it will be. And eventually, we can share this special gift with a select few..."

"Roger...or whatever you are, no, please stop. I have to get out of here and think. I'm scared." Christine was hyperventilating by now, utterly terrified of what had been said.

"I agree, why don't we go upstairs and watch the sea for awhile? We can talk as long as you want. If you're hungry, the replicators can provide whatever you'd like."

As she turned to face Korby, the hum of a phaser beam zoomed past Christine's head. A piece of rock fell from the ceiling above and shattered next to the couple, into a thousand pieces, it seemed.

"NO!" an ominous voice shouted.

Christine screamed.

FIN of 17...bwahahah! More to come.

I modeled Korby's functions after those given to Data in TNG.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimers as in part 1. Warning---some destruction and character deaths in this chapter.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 18/?

by Mistress V

Korby whirled around and looked into the face of Ruk, who was standing across the lab from him. He brandished an odd looking phaser in one hand. His other was busily holding a squirming Harvey Mudd by the neck.

"Easy, laddiebuck," Mudd tried to gasp out as he struggled against the android's superior strength. "Let's try to discuss this as gentlemen....er..."

"Cease your actions or I shall snap your greedy neck," Ruk intoned, his eyes never leaving Korby's. Mudd cooperated by sliding to the floor in a dead faint. Ruk placed a large booted foot on the man's chest. Then he motioned to the female android. "Angelique, protect. Dr. Korby and Miss Chapel have harmed us."

"We have not harmed you," Korby replied. Ruk, Angelique, I order you to stop."

"NO! He has harmed us, Angelique, protect. If they move, shoot."

Angelique shoved a similar weapon into the small of Christine's back. "I will use this if necessary," she stated flatly.

"I'd listen for now, Christine. Those weapons are the original basis for the Varon-T disruptor. I'm sure you know how that works, given the fact it is banned in the Federation."

Christine closed her eyes and shuddered.

"Now, Ruk, will you tell us why you feel we have harmed you and Angelique?" Korby continued.

***********

"That was a scream! Chris is in danger. Which way do we go?" Kirk demanded.

The group had reached the top of the mouldering staircase and now stood before a spot where three tunnels diverged.

"The mineral deposits prevent an accurate sensor reading," Spock offered helpfully.

"Hell with it. This one." Mitchell chose an opening and the three scurried down.

Unfortunately, the first bend included a five foot drop. Mitchell landed heavily on an ankle, swearing under his breath. But up ahead, a faint light was glowing. They hurried towards it as unobtrusively as possible.

***********

"Ruk?" Korby asked once more. "Tell us."

"She cannot leave. You have told her too much. She will bring others and they will destroy the legacy of the Founders. The Old Ones' memory will be forever lost. I cannot allow it." Ruk's voice was like tempered steel. "She must be...processed. Or she must die. There is no other way."

"Processed?" Christine whispered. Korby's hand held hers tightly.

"Christine will not bring us harm, Ruk. We are merely going upstairs, to talk where it is light and airy. She has no plans to leave. She's only hungry. Aren't you, darling?"

"Y-yyes. Hungry. And thirsty," Christine responded pleadingly. "It's cold here. I want to get warm. I'm not leaving."

"NO!" Ruk shouted once more. "No, such things are alien to what you will become. Best the process begin now." His tone became sinister. "And if you are dead, you would have no need of food or water. What do you choose?" He cocked the weapon threateningly.

"Ruk, if she is to be processed, you need help. At least allow me to guard Harvey there." Mudd was still comatose under the android's foot. "You need to warm up the machinery, don't you?"

"I told you it was wrong to come here. That we should go to the other colony, where my kindred await. From there we could have begun our work. But no, you and this man decided it would be best to go elsewhere. It...is better we never were here. Once she has been processed, I will destroy everything before we leave. There can be no trace." Ruk's eyes were cold.

"What of Angelique? And the others? We cannot destroy them! They are also the legacy of the Old Ones, Ruk," Korby said soothingly, even as he inched slowly towards the android.

"They are expendable." Ruk shook his head. "Enough! I will start the machines. Angelique, prepare the specimen."

Tears fell down Christine's face as the female robot led her towards a circular shaped table that was divided down the middle by instruments. One side held a shapeless form of polymer. The other was empty. "Sit," Angelique commanded.

At that moment, Mitchell stepped onto a ledge and found himself a good ten feet above the lab floor. In a heartbeat, he assessed the scene below and slid back into the shadows.

"Hostage situation," he hissed. "The weapons are serious."

"Call in backup," Kirk whispered angrily.

"They can't get here in time, besides, the noise would attract attention. We'll have to use the element of surprise." They crept back onto the ledge and flattened themselves against the rock wall, waiting.

Back on the lab floor, Korby had maneuvered himself closer to Ruk. "Give me the weapon," he entreated. "Or let me run the machines, Ruk. You cannot do both. It is illogical.

"I will not let you run the machines. You would spare her life. That is not possible." Ruk debated a moment, his eyes flickering to the table where Christine was sitting, awaiting her fate.

"Then the weapon?" Korby asked softly. "Angelique will continue to protect."

"I will protect," Angelique repeated, pointing her weapon at the base of Christine's skull.

A look of confusion passed across Ruk's face as he pondered the situation. His hand still held the weapon, but he turned to regard Korby. At that precise moment, Mudd, who'd regained consciousness during the drama, leaped onto the giant's back. Ruk jerked forward a bit and in doing so, the weapon discharged...straight through Korby's midsection. A shower of sparks flew everywhere and what used to be Roger Korby collapsed to the floor.

"Roger!" The cry came from Christine and Angelique simultaneously. They rushed forward to where Korby's shell lay. The weapon was doing its horrible job, sending short circuits throughout his artificial body.

NO!" A sound emanated from Ruk like a wounded animal. He seized the terrified Mudd. "You shall pay for this! It was YOUR idea that we come to this evil place. You must be punished!"

"Everyone freeze!" Mitchell shouted as he jumped off the ledge. Right onto his injured ankle. He stumbled and fell, his weapon skittering under some nearby machinery.

"I will kill you all!" Ruk howled. "Stay back! All of you! If you move, you all will die!"

"Christine?" Korby whispered. His breath was smoking and a terrible electrical odor was filling the air.

"I'm here, darling, right here. You'll be all right, I promise." Her gaze met Angelique's. The android shook her head sadly.

"I never stopped loving you, darling. Never." His voice dropped to moan. "Forgive me..."

"Roger!" Christine sobbed. She dropped onto Kirby's chest, her tears falling unchecked.

"I said do not move!" Ruk now held his weapon to Mudd's head as he dragged him towards what looked like a transporter pad. "Angelique, protect!" He punched in some codes and stepped onto the platform with his hostage. "Follow us," he commanded, "after you kill them all." Then they disappeared into a beam of light.

Angelique kept her weapon drawn as she flipped some switches on a panel behind her. Her fingers depressed a large red button. Then the console blew up. A voice intoned, "Five minutes to self-destruct."

"Here." Angelique handed the disruptor to Kirk. "I cannot protect. You must leave. This entire place will cease to exist very soon." She hit another button and a hatchway opened in the rock wall. "That is your only way out. You must go."

"I suggest we do as she says," Spock shouted over the din of shorting machinery. "We do hot have much time." As he spoke, the android pods began exploding into brilliant plasma fire, one by one.

"But why?" Kirk asked her as he helped Mitchell up. "Why, Angelique?"

"It is wrong to kill. It is wrong to command others to do against their will. Creating life like this is wrong. Ruk was wrong. And now Roger is lost to those who...loved him. From such wrongs can only come more wrong. It is best the old ways ways end with us." Her words began slowing. "I...will...cease...you...must...go...now...."

Kirk dragged Mitchell towards the opening and stared down. It was a twenty foot drop or more to the ground below. They watched as Angelique collapsed, her body smoking and sparking.

"Two minutes to self destruct!"

"Spock, Chris, come ON! That's an order!" Kirk yelled.

Mitchell barked into his comm unit. The pair leaped out into daylight and disappeared.

Christine still held what was left of Korby in her arms, but her tears had ceased. She was dimly aware of Spock's voice in her ear.

"We MUST get out of here NOW, Christine!"

"I can't leave Roger like this!" she insisted stubbornly. "Help me!"

Spock took her shoulders gently and looked into her eyes. "The Roger you knew, Christine, he...he is not here. He never was here. Please come with me, there isn't much time."

"Thirty seconds to self destruct!"

Christine looked wildly around her and finally realized what was happening. With a strangled sob, she yanked the signet ring off Korby's finger and threw it into a blazing plasma fire. Then she took Spock's hand and they staggered through the smoke and flames towards the open hatchway.

And jumped.

FIN of 18...more to come!

The Varon-T disruptor appeared in the TNG ep "The Most Toys". It destroys painfully, from the inside out. I used that concept here.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimers as in part 1.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone...Here are some fireworks! But no more death and destruction! Time for some light humor. FWIW, I struggled for a few days, deciding whether to let Roger survive or not. In the end, I decided to stay true to the original ep. And for Ruk/Rocco? Stay tuned.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 19/?

by Mistress V

"Got 'em," the transporter tech said confidently. "Here they come."

"And there she blows," General Jasik remarked, watching the large screen that dominated the command center.

Even as the transporter began to hum, the noise of Korby's clifftop hideaway imploding on itself drowned out any other sound. The older man turned to Mitchell, whose ankle was being seen to. "Gary, how many times do I have to tell you? Look, but don't touch!" he tsk-tsked, though the relieved smile indicated he was glad everyone was accounted for. Mitchell's quick transmission meant the listening vehicle and its staff were able to get to safety Emergency forces were now arriving on the scene.

Light shimmered on the transport platform. Two figures materialized, prone, in an undignified heap. Spock got to his hands and knees, coughing. He moved to one side as medical staff examined Christine and himself, including the removal of their transceivers.

"Thank God," Kirk said with a sad shake of his head. This hadn't been on the menu at all. "Are they all right?"

"Bumps, bruises, mild smoke inhalation, some shock. Nothing too bad, but I wouldn't recommend this stunt as an everyday activity," Dr. Wihst replied. "Like anything, it could have been worse."

"Since you've all been cleared by the doctor here, let's say we de-brief in an hour?" Jasik announced. "Get cleaned up, get your thoughts in order. There's a great deal we have to piece together."

"Here." Christine fished in her pocket for something. "Ouch!" she muttered, bringing a thumb to her mouth and giving it a vigorous suck. With her other hand, she withdrew the forgotten rose she'd been given. It was missing all its petals, but a thorn or two still protruded from the stem. "How appropriate," she said bitterly. Prick, she finished to herself. Then she recovered the tiny data stick and handed it over to the general. "This may help. Did you get anything from me at all?"

"We're working on it," a staffer said. "But there's not much. We'd better call in a computer sketch artist."

"Affirmative," Jasik replied, busily fielding an emergency call. His expression changed to one of incredulity. "What do you mean, she just exploded? What the hell are you serving down there, anyway? Yes, we'll send an officer, but I think your client's had one too many."

"What happened?" Mitchell asked, curious.

"That was the Sand n' Sea beach side bar. Some babbling Tellarite claims the woman he was with blew up right in front of him, in the middle of his lunch. Have you ever heard of something so preposterous?"

"Uh---you might get a few more of those calls, Marto..." Mitchell continued.

"Gary, what are YOU talking about? Did you bash that noggin of yours when you fell?"

"Let me explain..."

Christine allowed herself to be led away by the two female operatives. She obediently showered and changed clothes, but although her throat was choking on itself, she had no more tears to shed. If anything, she was furious. With herself, for loving such a moronic baboon of a man this long, angry at all the wasted years she'd spent pining for a worthless fantasy, and livid he'd even consider that she would go along with his perverted version of Babes in Toyland.

The afternoon passed in a busy haze. The group met together, then each member of the landing party was debriefed separately. Christine worked with the sketch artist, who produced a remarkably accurate illustration of where she'd been and what she'd seen. It was decided that the official line would be a tragic, freak explosion had taken the lives of Kirby, Rocco and Mudd, and most all the rest of the staff had...fled in the confusing aftermath. Sari harrumphed. That meant she'd be busy with the Orion undercover male agent she knew well, concocting a whopper for the rest of the syndicate to swallow.

"So where ARE Mudd and this Ruk?" Kirk asked for them all.

"We got a brief surge when they energized, but it's such a different system to ours, no one knows," one of the Risan staff outlined. "The nearest we figure is they transported to a ship somewhere just outside of our planet's territorial boundaries. There's plenty of shady spots, trust me."

"But all the androids self destructed," Christine pointed out. "I wonder if Ruk did, too though I was told he was special, not like the others."

"I guess we'll never know," Mitchell shrugged.

**************

Harvey Mudd looked around warily. He was on the transport ship Ruk had been using to ferry the machinery and other items from Exo III to the Risan base of operations. Not HIS transport, of course, no, this was one of the original ones those sacred cows, the Old Founders or somesuch nonsense, had built. It was running thanks largely to the parts cannibalized from HIS scout ship.

He'd been unconscious during the transfer up and now found himself buckled into the co-pilot's seat. There was a strange odor of burning circuitry in the air. "Er, you there, laddiebuck?" he asked tentatively.

Silence. The stars were sliding by so they were obviously on some pre-set course, probably back to Exo. Just his luck, he thought morosely. Stuck on that iceberg with a psychotic robot.

"Rocco, my lad?" But there was no sound except the hum of machinery.

Perhaps Ruk was charging his batteries, or whatever it was that he did. Harvey realized that meant he might have a slim chance of finding a weapon and securing it. Then once they got to wherever they were headed, he'd take off once and for all and leave that good for nothing pile of circuity boards to freeze. He unbuckled the safety harness and swiveled around.

His heart threatened to stop when he saw the smoking, melted pile of remains on the floor next to him. He poked and prodded as best he could. Having ascertained that the gooey mess was all that remained of the vicious android, Mudd exhaled. Now he, Harcourt Fenton Mudd, could go anywhere he wanted. How did those controls work again? He sat down in the pilot's seat and rubbed his hands together, thinking. The instruments were covered in a series of writings that were as alien to him as, well, aliens. Oh well. He shrugged and pushed what looked like the throttle.

"COURSE SELECTED. PREPARE FOR THE JUMP TO HYPER-WARP!" a disembodied voice intoned.

"Hyper what? Where are we going? What's the course?" Mudd looked around him wildly but the deck was empty as the pit of his stomach. The engines began to charge and a strange vibration took over the entire ship. He barely had time to buckle his harness when everything went blurry.

"Heeeellllllppppp!"

**************

"Captain?" Christine asked as the meeting was breaking up later in the afternoon.

"Yes? And it's still Jim if you want. We're not on duty yet." Kirk gave the woman a smile, amazed she looked so composed given the hell she'd obviously been through.

"I was wondering if I might head into town. I'd like to...blow off some steam."

"That sounds like a splendid idea. We're all planning to out a bit later---Spock and I have some ship's business to attend to and the rest are writing their reports. Why don't we give you a call so you can meet up with us for dinner? It's on General Jasik, so it's bound to be good."

"Thanks. I'm not sure if I'll have an appetite for awhile, though. But call me, I can certainly come along, even for a nightcap."

Kirk touched his head nurse lightly on the arm. "You sure you'll be OK, now, lieutenant?" he asked professionally. "I don't want you doing anything, well, stupid."

"Believe me, what happened today is not what I want to be thinking about right now. And I thank you for your concern...Jim." Then with a tentative smile and a wave, Christine headed out to the driveway and the transport waiting there.

"Is she all right?" Spock asked as he walked up next to his friend.

"I think so. But as they say, time will tell." Kirk gave a shrug. "Come on, Spock. I'm sure there's plenty to keep us occupied for the next few hours. Let's give her space."

***************

"Now then, my lady. What would you like me to do?" The hairdresser finger combed Christine's tresses and experimented with some ideas.

"Can you take this mess back to its original shade?" she asked. Blonde meant...Roger.

"Why sure, that's child's play. A nice nutmeggy cinnamon, if I guess correctly. And we can pop out the color even more with an amazing temporary rinse. It's called Original Sin. Then the style." The Bolian male assessed the texture of Christine's hair. "How about a nice perm? I bet it'd look fabulous on you!"

Christine's throat threatened to constrict altogether. She began coughing violently as she shook her head. A glass of what looked like ginger ale found its way into her hand and she downed it in a single gulp.

"No perm," she wheezed, having just realized the liquid was an excellent Risan champagne.

"Righto. What, then? Short? As is? What do you do when you're not on holiday?" her stylist asked as he topped up the glass.

"I work in a hospital," she said glumly, regarding the staid self-image that was laughing back at her. "It has to be manageable yet professional. I'm SICK of this schoolmarm look. In fact, I'm sick of it all. No manicures, no hangovers, no life, NO FUN!"

"We can fix you up in no time flat, sweetie pie. And I know you probably aren't allowed anything but a Terran Tip manicure, but that doesn't mean you can't wear makeup when you're off duty, does it?"

"No...not exactly." Christine helped herself to more champagne, delighted at the fizziness going up her nose.

"Very well. I'll dye those lashes of yours a luscious violet black. It's permanent, so you'll have some gorgeous frames for those blue gems of yours. And then we'll cut your fringe higher, show off the natural brow color. It goes with your eyes SO much better than this...corn silk."

"It's called 'Field of Wheat'," Christine offered, suddenly embarrassed at how...conservative that sounded.

"Wheat, shmeet, what a bore." The stylist rolled his eyes. "Well, we can take the food theme somewhere more fun. I have just the lipstick to top off your new look. Poison Apple. You game?"

"You bet."

**************

A few hours later, the woman formerly known as Christine Chapel the Meek was seated in a quiet corner of drinking establishment down by the docks, "Ginger and Mary Anne's Enchanted Castaways Cantina." She was finishing her third Risan Eclipse of the evening and thoroughly enjoying herself.

"Another?" the bartender asked from beneath his battered white mariner's cap.

"Sure. But first, I have a ques-quesh-I wanna know something." She tried to sound sober but was already well out of the league.

"Ask away. It's my job to answer questions...AND pour your drink!"

Before she could speak again, Christine's communicator beeped, for the third time since she'd found the dive. "Oh, crap," she declared. "Well, eff 'em!" And she proceeded to toss the offending object away from her, out into the Risan bay that lapped at the bar's pier. "Now, back to our conver...con....what we were talking about!"

"OK, shoot, my dear." The man slid a drink as red as the shirt he wore across the bar, then lit the sparkler sticking out of the rim.

"You don't look like a Ginger or a Mary Anne. What *is* this place?" Christine took a satisfying draught of the highly alcoholic beverage.

"Oh!" the man laughed and pointed at a large vidscreen. "The owner is crazy for old styled Terran TV shows. This place is based on one called 'Gilligan's Island'---which, according to her, spawned 'Survivor' and 'Lost' too...and some monstrosity called 'Dusty's Trails'. "

"And 'Gilhooley's Planet'. That was a real stinker!" Christine giggled into her drink.

"Welcome to our uncharted desert isle, kiddo. Now, seeing as you've been here for awhile, I have a question for you, hon. You drinking to remember? Or forget?"

"Forget. Ya know what? Love's a crockashit. And sex, well, it's over...over...a letdown."

"I'll drink to that," the bartender agreed. At last, he thought, someone who knew the score.

Fin of 19, and more frolics to follow :-)

"Dusty's Trail" was a mid-70's re-dress of "Gilligan's Island", but set in the old U.S. West.


	20. Chapter 20

Almost done. But not quite ;-). Disclaimers as in chapter 1. PG for language, there will be a few odd swear words here...you have been warned. But nothing horrid.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 20/?

by Mistress V

"I don't understand it," Kirk frowned as he put down his communicator. "She's not answering. You don't suppose she went back to that place, do you?"

"No, the clean-up crews would have noticed," Mitchell replied. He helped Thava out of the shuttle cab. "And the casino's closed, permanently. No one's seen her there."

"She's probably blowing off that steam, Jasik said with a smile. He'd obviously seen it done before. "Let's have dinner, shall we? I'm sure Christine will turn up eventually."

"Spock, have you found her comm signal?" Kirk was still captain, after all, and very responsible for his crew.

"I have. Most odd. It appears to be...at sea. And it is moving slowly in a circular pattern."

"Of course! What do you bet she's on one of those starry night sails? They're full of people, drinks and fun. I wouldn't worry, Jim. She's in good hands." Sari took Kirk's arm and led him into the elegant eaterie.

Spock gave his PADD another glance. Then he decided to scan for Christine's bio sign, just to be safe. True, it would take some time given the number of people in the resort, but then it could be determined which vessel she was sailing on.

**************

"How about something to soak up those drinks?" the bartender asked, even conscious of his client and her tipsy state. It'd take some doing to get her back to wherever she was staying, but he'd done it before and he'd do it again. He was there to protect---and serve---his customers. That was the Risan mission---safe pleasure.

"Sure. Gimmie some of.....those." Christine pointed to a table full of raucous Klingons. They looked woefully out of depth in their cheesy resort attire, but they were enjoying themselves anyway.

"What, ALL of THEM?" Why did the quiet drunks always turn into the nymphomaniacs?

"No, silly. What they're eating." She crooked a finger and the bartender leaned over. "But hold the worms. OK?" she whispered.

"Right. One nachos special, minus the gagh. How hot?"

"Lava, please. An' another drink." A small hiccup escaped her.

"So, who you trying to forget?" the Gilligan-esque bartender asked as he set up another Eclipse. The way this one was belting them back, he hoped the guy was far away from Risa or else he'd probably be suffering her wrath later.

"A sombish. A real shitbag." Christine took a healthy swig of her drink. "I waasheted the pas' ten years of my life on 'at scum. Well ya know? I have the ressa my life to do wha' I wanna!"

"That's the spirit." Another epiphany, then, he thought. One happened here every few days, it never failed. "Was that him calling you?" The man glanced over the railing into the clear, shallow phosphorescent waters. They were teeming with schools of tame carp-like fish that were fed by the bar's customers.

"Nope. Prob'ly my friends. They're having dinner. But I'm not hungry." She regarded the steaming plate of appetizers that arrived. "Well, maybe I am. But I wanna eat alone."

"And you will. Have some napkins. These can get messy, but the guacamole's to die for."

*************

Spock tapped Kirk on the shoulder. "I have isolated Christine's bio sign," he announced.

"What, that must have taken hours in this setting! Spock, you deserve a raise. Where is she?" Kirk, like the rest of the party, was having an enjoyable time, but they all missed Christine's presence.

"One point forty two hours, to be precise." Spock called up the map. "She is at an establishment on the waterfront. But her comm signal is still at sea, though close by. I do not understand."

"She probably left it on the boat," Sari laughed. "I've done it often enough. Should we go get her?"

"No, she may not want to be found," Thava replied. "We can't just show up, the lot of us. Besides, I want a chocolate soufflé."

"Since I was paired with Christine to begin with, it is logical that I should be the one to assess the situation firsthand. If she is amenable, I shall invite her here. If not, I shall determine what her plans are for the rest of the evening and ensure they are carried out in a modicum of safety." Spock got up before anyone else could say a word. "If you do not object, Jim?"

"Naah. What you said. We'll be here for awhile, that jazz trio's pretty good listening." Kirk waved in the direction of the stage where some musicians were performing. "Have fun."

"There is no reason to be facetious." Spock harrumphed to himself as he left the group.

"He seems to have loosened up a little," Mitchell remarked.

"A very little," Kirk corrected. "And for Spock, that's very big." But he, too, noticed the Vulcan's less sterile attitude. Must be the Risan magic, he thought.

**********  
Spock entered the bar but remained in the gangway, carefully observing the patrons. It was half-full, and most groups were partaking of food and drink. The atmosphere seemed quite convivial, much more pleasant than the overly-pretentious establishment where his party was still having dessert.

He glanced around but failed to find his shipmate. He frowned and looked over his data once more. Had she somehow left? No, there was her bio sign. Where was she? He looked once more, then his gaze found his quarry. His eyebrow raised in surprise as he made his way over.

"Ahh, shit. I've been found," Christine said disgustedly.

"What, who? Not that scumball you told me about?"

"Uh-uh. Worse. It's one-a my boshhes. A real barrel a laughs, thish 'un."

"You work with a Vulcan? Poor you." The bartender looked at the approaching male with a professional eye. No doubt about it, he would want mineral water. They always did. "Good evening, and welcome. What'll it be, sir?" he asked.

"Andorian Ale," came the startling reply. "Thank you."

Spock turned to the woman and put on his best diplomatic face, telling himself that to do otherwise would be illogical. "Christine," he began pleasantly, with the barest trace of a smile playing at his mouth. "Where have you been? We missed you at dinner. Why didn't you answer your calls?"

"I didn' wanna be found. An' I lost my comm-comm-cominator." Christine folded her arms across her chest.

"How did you lose it?" Spock knew it had to be retrieved.

"I'm not telling." She went back to her nachos, but was having problems bringing the chips to her mouth. "Oops."

The bartender motioned to Spock and they had a quiet conversation. Having ascertained the Vulcan was a legitimate associate, he pointed out where Christine had thrown the communicator a few hours ago. Spock knew better than to go clambering around in the water with all those fish so he sent word to the command post to scan for the signal and transport it out.

**************

Back at the complex, the transporter tech gasped almost as loudly as the toothy, fishy specimen that materialized on the pad. "Doctor?" he yelled.

"What is it?"

"The missing communicator? I think it's inside that thing."

"Guess we'll have a late night fish fry," the physician replied.

"Oh no, that's a listed species." A medical tech joined the group. "We can't just kill it. Looks like a female, too. They're doubly protected."

"But we HAVE to get that unit out of there!" Another tech came up and observed the fish as it flopped around. "Can't you, you know, tranquilize it? We could beam it back to where it was, right?"

"I'm a physician, not a veterinarian," the doctor grumbled as he put his briny patient into stasis.

The exploration was successful and in just a few minutes, the watery citizen was back at home, presumably none the worse for wear.

**************

Spock took a sip of his ale, which was quite excellent. "Christine, what do you say we go join the others?" he persisted. "They'd enjoy seeing you."

"No."

"Why not?" he said, trying not to sound annoyed. Babysitting inebriated females was not what he'd envisioned when he joined starfleet, even if this one now looked even more attractive than she had at their first meeting. His gaze was drawn to her lips, which all but dripped with sexiness, thanks to the glossy color she wore.

"Sh' not midnight. Thish Cinderesha's not done having fun." She gazed blearily at the Vulcan next to her. "I've gotta lotta time to make up an' I'm doing it all...tonight."

Spock and the bartender exchanged a glance.

"That sounds...intriguing. Why don't I accompany you, then?" Anything to get her into a cab, he thought. The rest would be simple.

Christine gasped theatrically. "Oh no, you wouldn't like it. Besides, you're, you know. *Vulcan.*"

"So I am constantly reminded." Spock resisted the temptation to lean his chin on his hand. This was getting nowhere. "Where are you headed?"

She put a finger to her lips and looked around. "To a nightclub. M' gonna dans an' flirt with every man I c'n fin'." Another hiccup. "And' maybe if I'm lucky I'll fin' out about that, you know, jamahammaboomboom..." Her eyes crossed. "But that's about sexsh. So you wouldn't be in'trustd."

"Jamaharon," the bartender corrected. He shook his head in Spock's direction.

"SHHHHH!" Christine hissed, so loudly it hurt Spock's ears. "Vulcans don' talk about sexsh. I don' tink they have any fun, they jush DO it." She leaned closer to the bartender. "But I'll tell you a secret."

"What's that?"

Spock also listened, though he didn't stop drinking his ale. This was rather morbidly fascinating. The idea of this jamaharon, with a sober and willing Christine, had some appeal. He looked at his glass suspiciously.

"That man" she nodded over at Spock, "he's so sexshy it husss. All the girls wanna teach 'im bout those beerds an' birs. I mean beers n' bids. Oh, never min'."

"Do you?" The bartender had heard about the magnetism Vulcans exuded, but why it made the ladies crazy was beyond him. Why waste your time trying to get blood out of a rock?

"Shurrrr. But 'e duzn'knmno I thin' he's cute." Christine giggled and picked at her nachos. "Hezza good kisser." She poked Spock now. "Wheja learna kiss 'ike that?" she asked loudly.

Spock felt his ears turn a shade of green that would have put the guacamole his companion was eating to shame. "Christine, I really think we need to go. You have consumed too alcohol and I am concerned about you."

"Naaah! I haven' finshd nmy nash---nash---them."

"I can get you a to-go container," the bartender offered. Then his expression changed. "Or not."

Spock turned just in time to see Christine fall face down into her half-eaten plate of nachos. Salsa splattered everywhere.

"Napkins? And can I call you a cab?"

"Yes, and yes." Spock sighed as he pulled out his communicator.

FIN of 20, and more to come!

I modeled the fishy fishing expedition after the M*A*S*H ep where Hawkeye has to operate on Radar's rabbit (whose ovaries were needed for Margaret's pregnancy test).


	21. Chapter 21

A.l.m.o.s.t done....but not quite.

Disclaimers as in chapter 1.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 21/?

by Mistress V

Spock was seated in the briefing room when the others arrived.

"How is she?" Kirk demanded. "What the hell happened? I KNEW I shouldn't have let her go off alone!"

"Christine is with the doctor, Jim. He stated she would make a complete recovery," Spock reassured the group. "Nothing untoward occurred."

"Why is she with the doctor? Your message was cryptic enough as it was," Mitchell continued.

"It appears Christine merely...over indulged. She passed out, so I brought here. Nothing more."

"Dammit, man, you were supposed to be watching her, not getting her plastered!!" Kirk's expression was hard.

"She was well on her way when I found her. I did not contribute to her state, believe me. The barman informed me she had consumed six 'Risan Eclipse' cocktails," Spock explained.

"Oh my Lord," Sari moaned. "Those pack one helluva punch."

"But Christine also admitted she had been drinking Risan champagne at the hair salon she visited earlier," the Vulcan finished. "Do the math. She just...passed out. Fortunately, in my presence, and not long after I arrived."

"Hair salon?" Sari and Thava exclaimed in unison.

"Yes, she apparently decided to change her look."

"How bad?" Kirk asked fearfully, imagining a Joan of Arc styled short, penitential cut.

"Her hair color is now its natural tone, with highlights. And the cut is more...stylish. Quite becoming, actually." Spock's reply was maddeningly emotionless.

"But what did the doctor do?" Mitchell demanded.

"I pumped her stomach," Dr. Wihst said coolly as he joined them. "Too much alcohol to do otherwise. Christine is fine and asleep. I've sedated her and given meds for dehydration and the after effects. But I just can't understand why she decided to tie one on without taking antitox first. I'd have given it to her, no problem. At worst, she'll have a mild headache in the morning---but why put your body through that when antidotes are so readily available?"

"Sometimes, you just need to get drunk," Thava said darkly. "Chris probably wanted to."

"My thoughts precisely," the doctor agreed. "Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but all of you have been getting messages while you were out. Maybe you'd better check in."

*************

Christine slept through the night. The doctor visited her first thing in the morning. After a cursory examination, he administered more medication and reminded her, in a gruff fatherly way, about the difference between blowing off steam and extinguishing a supernova. She drifted off to sleep once more.

Towards noon, she awakened. Her head was a bit sore, her insides ached, and she was woozy. Visions from the night before started sliding across her consciousness, though not clearly enough to grasp in their entirety. Her face turned beet red as bits and pieces of conversations came back to her.

"You stupid cow! How can you face anyone again?" she moaned. She took out her anger on a pillow and gave it several punches. Then she sent it sailing across the room.

Kirk caught it neatly from the doorway in which he was standing. "Easy there, you'll have plenty of time to get that throwing arm back into shape."

"Captain!" Christine turned bright red.

"No cause for formality." Kirk walked over and sat down in a bedside chair. "How you feeling, champ?

"Like I crawled out from under a rock," she admitted ruefully. "But I suppose it could have been worse."

"So the doctor tells me. I guess you won't be taking the evening shuttle back to base, will you?"

Christine closed her eyes. "No, sir, I guess not."

"That's fine, you can head back tomorrow night instead. I think they want to de-brief you some more, anyway. The rest of us, well, it's going to be business as usual." Kirk paused. "You drink him out of your memory last night?"

"I think so. Captain---Jim---I don't know what possessed me to behave so unprofessionally. I hope this incident won't go on my permanent record?"

Kirk waved his hand dismissively. "What incident would that be? I've done the same myself a few times. It'll be our little secret, eh? Now I do have a captain type of question for you, though."

"Oh?" Not out of the woods, then, she thought.

"What are your plans now? You don't have to make any decisions yet, of course. But obviously, the reason you signed aboard no longer exists." Kirk gave a sympathetic nod. "So if you wanted to leave---well, that can be arranged. In fact, you could make this your last stop altogether. Gary can take care of it."

"I hadn't even thought about it yet, to be honest. I don't think leaving the ship right now would accomplish anything, I need some time to process. Maybe work's the best way to do that." The idea of returning to Terra was incomprehensible to her just now. Even though Korby was dead, her entire existence of late had been tied to his memory, and undoing that would take awhile.

"Good. Well, you can stay on as long as you like---a week, a month---a few more years. We'd be happy to have you. Oh, and there's a promotion in it, if you're interested. Lieutenant Commander. Plus a decoration for valor, but that'll be given in private, naturally." Kirk took her hand now. "I'm sorry for your loss, Chris. You were very brave, you know. From all of us, thank you."

Christine felt a single tear course its way down her cheek. She watched Kirk leave, wondering what the future held for her.

The two female agents stopped by next, already on their way to new assignments, though as Sari put it, it would probably be watching boring old weapons dealers or the like. They told Christine the impossible tale of where her missing communicator ended up and how the staff had retrieved it safely. She laughed along with them until her sides ached, which wasn't long given her condition, but she kept on laughing anyway. Both women offered her a position as an operative if she ever decided to change jobs.

After that, General Jasik came in with some senior staff for another de-briefing, He sent Mitchell's apologies as the agent was hip deep in the rubble of the fantastically-designed (though now largely destroyed) lab complex. The data stick Korby gave her had been studied and a copy made for her to peruse at her leisure. It filled in many gaps, apparently.

There was no visit from Spock. Christine felt that was probably best. He'd likely slunk off on the evening transport with the captain, leaving her to fester in embarrassment alone. Oh well, she could hardly blame the guy. Her face still flamed persimmon whenever she thought about the suggestive things that had come tumbling of of her Poison Apple hued mouth the night before.

And another thought made her even more uneasy. How would their first meeting be...and what would become of the professional relationship they'd been developing? She genuinely liked working with the Vulcan. In fact, he'd given her some information on a grant program she might be interested in applying to---the inference being they'd be working on the research project together.

"Hell, kid, you really blew it this time" she sighed, letting the tears fall. Maybe leaving the ship wasn't such a bad idea.

Her appetite non-existent, Christine nibbled on some fruit and had a bowl of soup. She watched some vids in her room, still unsure of whether she could face the staff who were permanently in residence. It was obvious everyone knew she'd passed out in her nachos. She fervently hoped that was ALL they knew. Spock didn't seem the blabbermouth type, but you never knew with those Vulcans.

**********

The next morning dawned Risan perfect. Christine informed the staff she'd be taking the evening transport as arranged, relieved no one teased her about anything other than the fishy communicator incident. Then she swam some leisurely laps in the pool and packed up her small bag. After lunch---her appetite now back to some semblance of normalcy---she settled down on a poolside chaise lounge and read through the data she'd been given.

Roger's notes were very thorough and gave a detailed description of who the Old Ones were, their journey from Andromeda and how they came to use their fantastic technology. The security forces had retrieved a few bits of the destroyed models, and although the main circuitry 'brain' was gone, some of the 'skin' was being studied. There was hope it could help with burn regeneration , which gave Christine some consolation at least. But she went back Roger's final entry, written a month or so before she'd arrived on Risa. It seemed that Ruk's semi-psychotic tendencies were surfacing with alarming regularity, which worried Korby. And then there was Angelique. She was also experiencing emotion---and it was disconcerting to her.

"It never fails," Christine muttered to herself. "Playing with emotions can be like playing with a lit fuse."

A shadow fell across her seat and a familiar voice spoke. "I am glad to see you have recovered, Christine. May I join you?"

"Mr. Spock? You're still here?" Her tongue started tying itself into a knot and Christine became acutely conscious of the fact she was in a bathing suit. Maybe it was one piece, but it was Risan in design, which meant it hinted at what lay beneath. She hurriedly shrugged into a loose cover-up.

"Yes, I am taking the evening transport with you, it would appear. Commander Mitchell will be flying us back to base." Spock sat down in an adjoining chair. He was dressed in a lightweight Vulcan styled outfit that looked distinctly resort-oriented.

"I thought he went back with the captain, yesterday." She accepted a glass of juice her companion offered, grateful for something else to look at.

"Rank does not necessarily have its privilege. He went by regular shuttle. We shall be taking the express." He paused. "You asked what I have been doing. There is a small but thriving Vulcan community here on Risa: artisans, merchants, cuisine workers and several innkeepers. I have been making social calls to them all, informing them of colony progress and hearing their news. It has been a most pleasant and beneficial extension to my stay here."

Christine steadied her breath. "I, I want to apologize for last night," she began tentatively.

"There is no need to apologize, Christine. We all have lapses in our emotional control, you know." Spock quirked an eyebrow, recalling his own dealings with Kirk in the not too distant past. "Rest assured, I am not offended in the least."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly. Now we have some time before our departure and the beach is quite pleasant for walking. I understand you have been reading about the technology we encountered in some detail. I am most interested in learning about this. Shall we take a stroll and discuss it further?" Spock held out a hand to her.

Christine did her best not to look completely flabbergasted. "Why not?" she replied.

FIN of 21.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimers as in part 1.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 22/?

by Mistress V

The late afternoon beach walk proved both enjoyable and enlightening for both participants. Christine genuinely enjoyed discussing the concept of artificial sentience with Spock outside of the lab. It was clear they still had much in common, although she was careful to maintain a semblance of professionalism. He never mentioned the prior evening, not even once.

"Well, it's getting late," Christine observed, noticing the sun dipping towards the horizon. "We'd better get back, it'll be time to leave soon."

"I never thought I would look forward to a journey, but since Commander Mitchell has offered to let me pilot the vehicle for a segment, it should be most agreeable." Spock looked downright pleased at the notion. For him.

"We'll need our injections, just in case," she laughed. "Even pilots can get vertigo."

"Christine." Spock touched her elbow lightly. "May I speak frankly to you for a moment?"

"All right," she said balefully. Here it comes, she thought to herself.

"I realize you have been through tremendous confusion and horrible loss in a very short period of time. The transition will no doubt be...difficult now and then. And may I add that I am very sorry for the events which transpired. Dr. Korby was a fine man---the one you and I both met many years ago. I hope we might continue some of his research together, in his honor."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. I look forward to that." But Christine sensed there was more on the Vulcan's mind.

There was.

"I am glad to hear you will re-join the ship, even temporarily. I also would like to say that...should the need for someone to...talk to ever arise, please do not hesitate to seek me out. I can empathize with your loss and you will find I am a very non-judgmental listener. There are relaxation techniques and meditations I could share with you if need be. We have a fine working relationship, which I hope will continue. I will offer this. Time heals the soul. Not the most logical of sayings, but it is quite true nonetheless."

Christine was struck dumb by the genuineness of what she heard. Confusion swam over her and to clear her head, she looked out at the sunset. Her gaze fell on a flock of swirling seabirds who were riding the late day thermals, crying raucously all the while. She remembered, with crystal clear recall, the ludicrous comment she'd made regarding the birds and the bees. Tears threatened to come, further mortifying her. She buried her face in her hands, unsure of what to do---or how to react.

"Is something wrong? Have I offended you?" Spock put a hand on her shoulder.

"No." Christine squared herself and took a deep breath. "But if we're going to be working together, I need to say this. I said some terribly outrageous things last night. And I'm here to tell you I am most profoundly sorry I said them, but given the circumstances, I hope you understand. I mean, half the female population of the ship is in love with you, so I guess I just listened to too much gossip. Please, please, forget anything I may have babbled last night and put it down to...the Risan atmosphere. If you don't, I'll never forgive myself."

"That would be most illogical, Christine, seeing as I already have forgiven you." Was there a twinkle in Spock's eye? "So please do forgive yourself and let us go on."

"Oh." Christine looked uncertain for a moment, then extended her hand. "Friends? Or don't Vulcans have friends?"

"We most certainly do, and I am pleased to count you as one." But instead of shaking her hand, Spock pulled her close and gave a very human embrace, sensing she was still uncertain regarding how he felt about things. Then, to seal matters, he tilted her chin and bestowed a smoldering kiss, the same as he'd given the night before...only better.

"Wha-what was that for?" she asked when her breath returned.

"I do not have a logical explanation. Shall we put it down to the...Risan atmosphere?"

"Sounds logical to me."

But all during the walk back to the complex, the kiss...and the feelings it evoked...lay between them, like a question.

Fin of 22. Yes, more to follow.


	23. Chapter 23

We're into the final furlongs...Disclaimers as in part 1.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 23/?

by Mistress V

Nyota Uhura fastened her running shoes and began her warmup. Some layover. They entire crew had been busy almost around the clock and if it wasn't for the fitness track at the starbase, she'd have gone stir crazy by now.

She'd glimpsed the captain the night before, just in passing. He looked odd---both suntanned and exhausted. Claimed he'd been billeted planet side, though she wondered about that, as in with whom. There was an exceptionally nice tropical spa there, for top brass only. Maybe Kirk had been sneaking in some time as a guest. Of course, she had also been spending some time there and it really was a decadent setting. Almost like Risa, come to think of it.

The track was a busy place, a spot to see, be seen, flirt, converse and discuss. The course swarmed with fitness enthusiasts and wannabees all the time. And the fact it ran around the entire lower deck of the base only added to the intrigue. It was possible to observe all of the activities going on below and not be given away.

She gave a quick glance, wondering if Spock was around. He'd been on 'colony business', but whether that was onsite or off, she had no clue. To be honest, she'd been so busy she'd not given much thought to him these past days. Despite trying to convince herself otherwise, she knew that as the mission progressed, they were growing apart from each other, at least in the way they'd been at the academy. But those were very different days, and the events that turned their worlds upside down seemed to have affected character as well. She gave a shrug. Sometimes, things just had a way of working their way out.

"Hi there, Nyota, sorry I'm late. You know how starbase business can be, even with assistants." Vice Commodore Ravil Titov jogged up beside her.

"That's all right, Ravi, I was just stretching." Nyota smiled at the man, a direct descendant of Gherman Titov, a long ago cosmonaut. He was as devilishly handsome as his Kazakh ancestor, and every bit as charming. They'd been spending what little free time she had together and she liked his easygoing personality. Of course, it didn't hurt that he was connected---and single.

"So you leave orbit when?" he asked, pausing to check his own footgear.

"Tomorrow morning at 06:00 starbase time. Off into the great unknown." She gave a flirtatious shrug.

"Then you can join me for a farewell evening? I have an excellent holosuite program that can take us to where the Siberian taiga, the Kazakh steppes and the Mongolian desert all meet---the land my family is from. We can ride horses across the plains and then have a native meal around the campfire. How does that sound?"

"That's the most intriguing offer I've had in a very long time. How about we run an extra few laps, just to get in shape?"

They laughed and set off along the course.

***************

Christine spent most of the return journey engrossed in the data obtained from the mission. The more she read, the more she realized how terribly wrong it had all gone. That was the real tragedy. So much of what was lost might have been used in productive ways, though she wondered about the android concept. It was one thing to have service drones, but artificial life that was sentient? Despite the recent work of Dr. Sanjay Soong and his team, the concept seemed as impossible as warp travel was to the first Terran astronauts.

General Jasik had informed her there would be an 'official' pronouncement of Roger Korby's death in the next week or so. A preliminary scouting of Exo III, prior to the scheduled visit by the *Enterprise* would discover the campsite Roger mentioned and find some evidence of those lost. But weather, as ever, would prevent any real excavation. A memorial would eventually be brought to the planet, possibly by her own ship. THAT would be interesting, she thought. Well, the other version would not only be hard to believe, it would attract way too much attention, possibly from the wrong parties. This was the best way. As Sari had mentioned, another crock of official malarkey to feed the public, though she hadn't put it quite so mildly.

Sari and Thava both had invited her to visit their home worlds whenever she wanted and Christine planned to do just that. Now that she was at last unencumbered from all the emotional baggage she'd been dragging around with her, rather like a modern day Jacob Marley, she could get on with living. That was good. And despite the past few days' events, she also wanted to go back to Risa. It *was* an idyllic spot. Maybe in some congenial male company. Her gaze slid over to Spock, who was now piloting the ship. She had to admit, he looked good in bathing trunks and he had a wicked volleyball serve. What would a few days alone together bring about? Then she realized what she was thinking and mentally gave herself a slap. NO, that's forbidden territory. Besides, she assured herself. I'm not the one who's dead, surely I can find someone there easily enough. She gave her new hairstyle a smoothing over.

The time passed quickly and it wasn't long before Starbase 11's system came into view, its ringed twin planet looking as ethereally beautiful as always. Christine put away her PADD and prepared for re-entry, in more ways than one.

Kirk was waiting for Mitchell and the two immediately began talking ship's business. Spock helped the nurse down the ramp and they made their way towards the exit.

*****************

Nyota was just finishing her run, alone. Despite his best efforts, the vice commodore had been called away for something urgent. He'd gone, promising to make it up to her that evening. She had to admit, the planned entertainment seemed adventurous and just a little bit daring, and she liked that.

Her gaze was drawn to the deck below. She noticed Commodore Stone down there, though not in full dress uniform. That meant something was up. She paused and leaned over the rail, curious. The older man headed towards the far end of the platform, where the ultra classified exit was. That was usually reserved for the top visiting VIPs. Ravi had pointed that out to her earlier. Even he hadn't been beyond there very often.

The doors opened and Uhura' expression grew surprised. There were the captain and Mr. Mitchell, being greeted as though they'd just come back from a war or something. But how could that be? Kirk was here on base the past few days. Then her jaw just about hit the deck when she saw the others in their party. Spock was unmistakably Spock. But who the devil was that gorgeous woman with him? From the looks of it, they knew each other. The couple joined the group and slipped into the conversation quite easily.

The party began moving across the deck and split apart. As the woman turned to check her bag, her face came into view. Nyota was stunned to see it was Christine Chapel. The nurse! She'd supposedly been at some biotech conference, but somehow in that time she'd managed to find a whole new look for herself. Nyota's eyes narrowed. She was suntanned! Come to think of it---so were Spock and the others. The kind that did NOT come from an indoor spa, she realized.

She watched the pair continue walking. They were having a conversation, though there was nothing emotional about it. Maybe they'd just run into each other. Yes, that was it. Then, just before they reached the main exit, she saw Spock lightly touch the woman's arm. They drew closer for a microsecond and spoke. And then they went their separate ways.

Well, well, Nyota thought. Then she asked herself the more obvious question. Now what do I do?

FIN of 23.

Gherman Titov was a Soviet cosmonaut in the 1960's and quite a handsome chap from what I've been able to see in old pictures. He was born in the area his made-up ancestor mentions.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimers as in part 1. Just about done. Honestly, I feel as though I've given birth! Whew!

For those who wondered how I created the dashing Vice Commodore Ravil Titov in the last chapter, I was listening to Borodin's "On the Steppes of Central Asia" while I was writing and I guess my imagination got the best of me. You'll see a little more of that influence in this chapter.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 24/?

by Mistress V

The *Enterprise*, safe in spacedock, was quiet as she orbited Starbase 11's twin planets. It was the ship's night and everyone was trying to get their sleep in before the 05:00 call to prepare for leaving orbit. But despite the lateness of the hour, there were still some people awake who weren't on duty.

Kirk yawned and rubbed his eyes. He was astonished at how much bureaucratic garbage accumulated in the short time he'd been away. Scotty had done an admirable job of fielding things but he was an engineer, not an administrator. There was still a half day's worth of forms to get through before they left orbit. He glanced at the chronometer and sighed. Another all nighter. He ordered extra strong coffee from the replicator and scowled out the window at the planets below.

At the base planetside, Gary Mitchell was having one last round of Finagle's Folly with his companions. It was going to be out of the frying pan and into the fire for him. The *Enterprise* was about to head off to start ferrying Federation bigwigs to the upcoming Babel debates and given the mess he'd just seen, the Orions were still a threat. It was not going to be an easy few weeks. Mitchell was glad promotions were due after the conference. As much as he liked working with his friend, the idea of being permanently tied to one ship made his skin itch.

Nyota Uhura was just returning from an exotic night of fun with Ravi Titov. Productive as well, she'd gotten good, sound advice on fleet personnel (particularly who the troublesome ones were), duty assignments and other useful scuttlebutt. With the Babel conference happening soon, it was likely she'd be crossing paths with the charming officer once more. He'd praised her communication skills and hinted she' be a busy lady on that assignment. It had been a wonderful evening, she had to admit. Ravi certainly knew how to treat a lady, and the entertainment, from the horse riding to the spectacular sword and fire dances, sure beat spending a night on board.

She glanced down the corridor, wondering if Spock was awake. Should she wander by for a few minutes? Her conscience was nagging a little as she recalled the 'talk' they'd had earlier. It was done logically, with both parties agreeing that their life paths had now begun diverging in ways they hadn't foreseen when they first met. Clearly, Spock was slated to be involved with the Vulcan colony for a very long time, something he had not counted on. And she didn't want to be tied down there or anywhere else right now, there was so much to see in the quadrant. Starfleet was still a very real life career option for her.

Fortunately, they'd agreed to part as friends and professional co-workers. It wouldn't take long for the ship's gossip mill to start grinding, though. During her drinks with Ravi at the base lounge, quite a few loudmouths had been seen...and heard. Oh well, that was the price you paid for living in a goldfish bowl. She remembered how Ravi had thrown back his head and laughed at something that happened on the holodeck. It was so refreshing to be with a man who embraced his emotions. Perhaps this had turned out for the best---she couldn't deny her own human nature, after all.

Spock was indeed awake. He'd finished his meditation but found he was still a bit wound up from the day's events. It had been a very busy few hours for him once they arrived at the base. Another de-briefing, this time with Commodore Stone and the senior intelligence officer, Captain Marquez. Then a private dinner with the Vulcan attaché so the older man could be discretely brought up to speed about the Risan events. Of course that meant he'd had to prepare a detailed report to be sent on to the Vulcan security force C.O. as well. That, plus his own neglected duties, meant nonstop work since the craft touched down.

And then there was his conversation with Nyota. Hardly surprising, really, though it still had been a little difficult. Despite the logic behind agreeing that they had indeed grown apart lately, he still felt unaccustomed emotion at losing what they'd had---though the key word was had. The thought of really being free and available, so to speak, was thrilling and disturbing at the same time. He knew enough to realize that many females on board might begin making subtle advances. Well, he could defer that quite logically, perhaps say that he was duty bound to select a wife from the colony's inhabitants so nothing permanent was even remotely possible. It was not far from the truth, anyway. He sighed. Best to send a message to his father and inform him of *all* of the past few days' events. Sarek was sure to send along a list of 'suitable' choices soon enough.

For a moment, his thoughts returned to Christine. He'd seen her on the base below as he was moving between appointments. She had not observed him, however, as she was entering the facility's multi-faith worship center. Spock surmised she wanted time alone to grieve, away from the prying eyes on board, so he had not pursued her. But he wondered how she was adjusting now that reality was settling in. He made a note to stop by sickbay at some point during the day, to ask after her research project. That was a logical reason, given the propensity for that annoying physician to repeat anything said within his hallowed complex to the captain and anyone else willing to listen.

Christine was still awake. She'd not wanted to have dinner with Kirk and Mitchell, but they'd insisted it was their treat so she could hardly refuse. The meal now sat in her stomach, heavy as a rock. She sipped at some ginger ale, the only thing that seemed to help at a time like this. The stars outside her window twinkled enticingly and she was glad they were leaving orbit so she could put this all behind her.

She was uncertain about what lay ahead. For now, she'd stay with the ship at least until the Babel conference started. Mitchell assured her he could arrange a changeover of personnel there if she wanted to leave. The idea of dealing with all the other species was intriguing, and it would certainly keep her busy. But then there was Kirk's offer of a promotion, to Lt. Commander and with it, more responsibility for the bioresearch division. That meant working with Spock, something she still wanted to do, but still doubted they could manage. It was painfully clear they had chemistry between them, and not the scientific kind. The last thing she wanted was for him to avoid her or treat her differently because of it.

Her eyes hurt. She hunted through her things for some drops and put them in. She'd gone down to the base well before her dinner date and sent a container back to Terra, one that held all the mementos from her time with Roger. Cleaning the slate. Then she went into the base chapel, ignoring the long standing joke in her head about Chapel in the chapel, and sat for a few hours. The tears she'd been suppressing finally broke forth like the proverbial dam and she wept inconsolably in a tiny alcove. Frightened of the depth of her grief, she then made her way to the resident counselor for an impromptu meeting, That left her feeling a bit better, though she knew the recovery process would take some time yet.

A small, winking horga'hn now held a spot in her terrarium. Christine smiled at the object, recalling how the barman gave it to her when he'd talked about the mysterious Risan sexual rite. Maybe someday she'd go back to find out what that was about, only there'd be no alcoholic antics. Once was enough. Her insides still hurt from the old-fashioned vacuuming she'd been given.

Time for bed, she decided. She gave a last glance to her image in the mirror, conscious that in the morning, word of her new look would spread faster than plasma fire, calling forth the usual pack of circling hounds.

Well this time, she'd flirt back.

FIN of 24, just a bit more to follow!


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimers as in part one.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 25/25, conclusion

by Mistress V

Christine's door chime rang early, just after the ship left orbit. She was already up and opened it to find two bioresearch staffers standing there.

"We couldn't wait to see your new look," Ensign Bridget O'Rourke attempted to apologize."So here we are."

"You look amazing, ma'am!" Ensign Elena Maeve Clampett minced no words, as was her nature. "Are you up for showing off at breakfast?"

"I usually grab something in sickbay," Christine replied. Then she smiled broadly. "But I think now's a good time to break those old habits. Lead on, ladies!"

************

The next days passed without incident. As some personnel expected, the discovery of Dr. Roger Korby''s missing expedition was announced. Christine accepted condolences from staff members, never belying the fact she knew anything else. But ship's gossip ground away mercilessly nonetheless, with those 'in the know' pronouncing the head nurse would be leaving at the first opportunity.

Naturally, such rumors reached the captain forthwith. He hesitated at accepting this, preferring for the person themselves to refute the accusation...or not.

Everyone waited for Christine Chapel to say something. But instead of satisfying the feeding frenzy, she merely performed her duties to the highest standard and gave not a hint of her plans. The tension began to pull like an overstretched violin string.

Finally, mercifully, the woman herself decided to end things. One evening she came into the dining hall accompanied by some of the bioresearch staff, as usual. But instead of choosing her dinner, she strode confidently over to a certain table.

"Gentlemen, may I join you for a moment?" she asked pleasantly.

"Of course," Kirk replied. "What's on your mind, Lt. Chapel?"

"I've thought over all the propositions that were given to me," she replied, comfortably seating herself amongst the males. "And I've made my decision."

"And that is?" Kirk countered, suddenly worried he'd lose not only the head nurse but the best bioresearcher the ship had.

"Captain." Christine nodded. "I will take you up on your generous offer of promotion provided my name is among those who pass the upcoming exam. I plan to take it."

"There's no need...." Kirk began.

"There is, and I wish to earn my rank here, just as any other crew member would. Mr. Spock?"

"Yes?" The Vulcan was caught quite unawares.

"I've looked over the grant proposal guidelines and have written a preliminary summary. As the project specified would involve the entire bioresearch division, I'd appreciate it if you could review it and give me your feedback?" Christine was all business, not a hint of anything else.

"Of course," Spock replied. "At your convenience."

But Christine was not done yet. She addressed the third male at the table now.

"Commander Mitchell? If you ever find yourself shorthanded again, I'd be happy to take you up on your proposal." And with that, a smile, and a sassy sway of her hips, she went off to join her companions.

Kirk eyed his table mates. "I don't know about you, but in my opinion, the mission just got a whole lot more interesting. Wouldn't you agree, gentlemen?"

The End. Of THIS tale.

There was a small challenge response in this chapter (the other was a few back), that I could place Ellie May Clampett and Ginger and Mary Anne into my story. So I did.


End file.
